
ALBERT F. BLAISDELL AND 
FRANCIS K.BALL 




























THE AMERICAN HISTORY 
STORY-BOOK 








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YOUNG CAPTAIN GRANDPRK, SWORD IN HAND, I'ACKD 
THE DRAGOON 

I'RONTISI’IECE. See Page 117. 



The American History 
Story-Book 


By 

ALBERT F. BLAISDELL 
•( 

AND 


FRANCIS K. BALL 

Authors of “ Hero Stories from American History,” etc. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

FRANK T. MERRILL 


Boston 

Little, Brown, and Company 
1911 


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Copyright, 1911, 

By Little, Browk, and Company. 
All rights reserved 
Published, September, 1911 



IPrfntrrs 

8. J. Pabehill Si Co., Boston, U.S.A. 


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. . 1 - 



PREFACE 

This little book is designed to be used as 
a supplementary historical reader for the 
fourth and fifth grades of our public schools, 
or for other young persons from ten to fifteen 
years of age. It is also intended for collateral 
reading in connection with the study of the 
numerous elementary text-books on Ameri¬ 
can history. 

The authors have attempted to describe 
in some detail the perils, the arduous struggles, 
the stem lessons of self-denial, and the 
staunch patriotism of the early settlers of 
this country. Personal anecdotes and inci¬ 
dents which thriU us because of their human 
element and which smack of the picturesque 
life of our forefathers have been freely used. 
Such historical material, instinct with human 
life, serves a most useful purpose in teach- 


V 


PREFACE 


ing elementary history. Experienced teachers 
know that such material attracts and holds 
the attention of boys and girls and tends 
to stimulate them to learn more about the 
history of their country. 

These stories rest upon a substantial his¬ 
torical basis. They have been diligently 
culled from many trustworthy sources. 
This book would indeed prove of little 
worth to young people if it could be read 
at a glance and then thrown aside like the 
ordinary story-book. It is suggested that 
teachers and parents supplement and enrich 
the text of this book with such other his¬ 
torical material as may be readily obtained 
from school, home, or public libraries. 

Albert F. Blaisdell. 

Francis K. Ball. 

May, 1911. 


VI 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Elizabeth Tilley, the Young Pilgrim Girl’. 1 

II. Squanto Helps the Pilgrims .... 9 

III. The Bravery of Hannah Dustin ... 19 

IV. A Famous Writing - Desk.28 

V. Bessie Fisher Outwits the Tories ... 37 

VI. Tempy Wicks Hides Her Horse ... 44 

VII. Peggy Miller Goes Marketing ... 50 

VIII. Paul Russell’s Bacon is Saved ... 59 

IX. Fighting the British with Bees ... 67 

X. A Timely Jack - o’ - Lantern .... 73 

XI. Mercy Tyler Traps a Panther ... 80 

XII. Bessie Brandon’s Unexpected Guest . . 86 

XIII. David Miller Kills a Rattlesnake . . 92 

XIV. Little Jarvis, the Midshipman .... 98 

XV. Helen Patterson’s Escape .... 106 

XVI. A Last Blow for Spain.112 

XVII. The Charge of the Hounds .... 121 

XVIII. The Defense of Fort Stephenson . . . 126 


vii 









1 



ILLUSTRATIONS 


Young Captain Grandpre, sword in hand, faced the 

dragoon. Frontispiece 


Squanto now taught them how to get the old Indian 

cornfield ready for a new crop .... Page 15 
Mr. Dustin stopped his horse and faced the savages “ 23 

“ That will make King George gnash his teeth,” 

said the genial old gentleman .... “33 

It was a mad race for an hom.“57 

“ Do you please sit down with me, and I shall enjoy 

this good breakfast with you ” . . . . “ 


90 





THE AMERICAN HISTORY 
STORY-BOOK 

I 

ELIZABETH TILLEY, THE YOUNG PILGRIM GIRL 

J OHN TILLEY was a blacksmith. He 
lived in London, where with plenty of 
work he made a home for himself and his 
family. 

Now there were some people in England 
who did not like the English church and be¬ 
lieved they had a right to worship God in 
their own way. John Tilley was one of them. 
The King of England told them they must go 
to his church or be sent to prison. Some of 
these people were really put into prison; 
others were driven from their homes and 
native land; some were even put to death. 

1 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


“ Let US go away,” they said to one an¬ 
other. ‘‘ Let us find a country where we can 
worship God as we please.” 

And so it came to pass that they hired a 
vessel, and with their women and children 
crossed the sea to Holland. Here they were 
allowed to worship as they saw fit. 

John Tilley’s daughter Elizabeth thought 
Holland was an odd country. Indeed it is. 
It is almost as flat as a floor. It is so low and 
so little above the level of the sea that the 
tide could flow over the land. The people 
of Holland built great walls, called dykes, 
which kept the ocean out. But there were 
canals which ran everywhere like great spider¬ 
webs, even through the main streets of the 
cities. 

As the years passed by, other good people 
came across the sea from England, to make 
homes for themselves in Holland. At the 
end of twelve years there were about a thou¬ 
sand of them. They were a thrifty and hard¬ 
working people. They liked their new friends, 

2 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


and were liked by them. Still, it was not 
England; and at last they began to feel that 
it was not best for them to live any longer 
in a strange land. Their children were already 
learning the ways of the country and could 
speak Dutch as well as English. 

“We are pilgrims in a strange land,” mur¬ 
mured the good Elder Brewster. 

“ This will never do in the world,” said 
Goodman Tilley to his wife one day. “ Look 
at Elizabeth and the children she is playing 
with in the garden. They are talking Dutch 
so fast I don’t know a word they are saying. 
It is high time for us to cross the great ocean 
and make a new home for ourselves in 
America.” 

“ In truth, John,” answered Goodwife Til¬ 
ley, “ we could indeed live there under the 
rule of King James of England and yet be 
free to worship as we pleased. Let us talk it 
over with our good pastor. Elder Robinson, 
and get his advice.” 

Thus it came about that in the summer of 
3 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


1620 a little company of these people bade 
good-by to Holland, and sailed away to 
England in an old vessel called the Speed¬ 
well. 

Another vessel, named the Mayflower, was 
waiting for them. The Speedwell, however, 
was found to be too old and leaky to make the 
voyage across the Atlantic. She was said to 
be as open and leaky as a sieve. After many 
delays a hundred people were crowded into 
the Mayflower and set sail from Pl3^mouth in 
September, 1620, on the long voyage across the 
sea. 

At first Elizabeth Tilley and several other 
young girls of her age liked to watch the waves 
and the strange sights about the vessel. But 
after a time it came on stormy, and the women 
and children were often sent below, where it 
was cold and dreary, with scarcely room 
enough to move about. It was a long voyage 
of sixty-three days. The Mayflower was a 
frail and leaky craft to cross the Atlantic even 
in midsummer. Storm after storm arose, and 

4 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


it often seemed as if the vessel would go to 
the bottom with all on board. 

In the midst of the ocean a baby was born 
to Master Stephen Hopkins and his wife 
Elizabeth. We are told that the tiny baby 
was a great comfort to all on board. 

“ What shall we name him? ” asked Eliza¬ 
beth Tilley of her mother one day, when the 
boy was a week old. 

“ The poor thing was born on the ocean; 
and why not call him Oceanus? ” 

The name pleased the mother, and the baby 
was named Oceanus Hopkins. 

Land! land! ’’ shouted a sailor, early one 
morning. 

Yes, there was land; but it was not Vir¬ 
ginia or New Jersey, as the Pilgrims expected. 
The last storm had driven the Mayflower 
out of her course. They had come to what 
is now known as the coast of New Eng¬ 
land. The low, sandy beach before them 
was the tip of Cape Cod. In spite of the per¬ 
ilous shoals and head winds the Mayflower 

5 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


rounded the Cape, and soon dropped anchor 
in what is now the harbor of Province- 
town. 

This was late in November, in the year 
1620. How cold and bleak the icy coast of 
Cape Cod looked on that November day! 
There was not a living thing to be seen any¬ 
where, except the gulls, as they flew with 
shrill cries across the harbor. 

Before anybody went ashore, a writing was 
drawn up, and forty-one of the men signed it. 
They used Governor Bradford’s chest for a 
table. In this writing they said they would 
defend one another and obey such laws as 
should be made. They also chose John Carver 
as governor of the colony. 

Bright and early the first morning on shore 
the women went to washing the clothes, for 
they had not been able to do washing on 
board the Mayflower. This was on a Monday; 
and Monday, as we know, has ever since been 
used in New England as wash-day. 

Meanwhile the men made three trips along 
6 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


the shore of Cape Cod Bay, to find a place 
to build their homes. The third trip was made 
in their frail sailboat. It was bitter cold, 
and the sea was rough. A snowstorm set in, 
and they were soon in great peril. The rudder 
broke, and the mast came crashing down on 
their heads. The men rowed toward a little 
cove and brought their boat ashore. This 
proved to be on an island well out from the 
mainland. It is now known as Clarke’s 
Island. On the next day but one they rowed 
over to the mainland. 

At last they had found a good place. This 
was Plymouth. They called it “ a beautiful 
spot, with cornfields and little running 
brooks.” They quickly sailed back to Cape 
Cod to carry the good news. 

The Mayflower had been at anchor in 
Provincetown Harbor for a month. The 
frozen sails were now unfurled, the anchor 
raised, and the good ship was headed for the 
mainland across the great bay of Cape Cod. 
On Saturday, December 20, 1620, the May- 

7 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


flower dropped anchor in Plymouth Harbor, 
about a mile from the shore. 

At last the long voyage was at an end. The 
Pilgrims had found a home on the bleak shore 
of New England. 

And what about Elizabeth Tilley? John 
Tilley and his wife did not endure the cold 
and hunger of the first winter. They died 
early the next spring. Elizabeth married a 
man by the name of John Howland. This was 
the young man that fell overboard in mid¬ 
ocean, but was quick enough to catch hold of 
a trailing rope, and was pulled on board the 
Mayflower more dead than alive. As the 
records tell us, this worthy couple were still 
living thirty years after the landing, with a 
family of ten children. Elizabeth lived for 
sixty-seven years after reaching the Plymouth 
shore. 


8 


II 

SQUANTO HELPS THE PILGRIMS 

W HEN the Pilgrims reached New Eng¬ 
land, their hardships had only be¬ 
gun. The Mayflower had to anchor 
more than a mile from the shore, the water 
was so shallow. Except at high tide they 
could not land, even in their boat, without 
wading in the icy water. Some of the men 
made a trip ashore to spy out the land. The 
weather was cold and stormy and the whole 
country looked bleak and dreary; for winter 
had set in early that year. 

The place where the Pilgrims landed had 
once been an Indian village. They thought 
they should find Indians lurking in the woods; 
but all the people had died of the plague, 

9 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


and not a living creature was to be seen. The 
cornfields were left for the newcomers to 
plant. There were several running brooks 
and a large spring close by, from w^hich they 
could get plenty of fresh water. 

The first thing to do was to stake out the 
land and build some kind of house. That 
first Christmas on the Plymouth shore must 
indeed have been hard. Governor Bradford 
wrote in his journal, “No man rested on that 
day; we had a sore storm of wind and rain.” 
It was on that dreary Christmas morning that 
they began to build their first log house, a 
cabin about twenty feet square, for storing 
their goods. 

The women and children stayed on board 
the Mayflower. They had to breathe the 
bad air of the cabin, and suffered from cold 
and hunger. The men came ashore in good 
weather and worked all day in building log 
cabins and moving their household goods. It 
was slow and hard work. The winter days 
were short and often stormy. It took a long 

10 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 

time to go to and from the vessel, and their 
food was poor and scanty. 

So slow was the work that at the end of the 
first year there were only four log storehouses 
and seven log cabins in the whole settlement. 

Sickness and death came too. During the 
first winter nearly one half of the colony died. 
At one time there were only seven persons 
well enough to wait on the sick and bury the 
dead. 

Governor Bradford wrote in his journal: 

On the third day of March it was warm and 
fair; the birds sang in the woods most 
pleasantly. In the afternoon there was a 
thunderstorm, and it rained very sadly until 
midnight.” And two days later, we are told, 
one of the children sowed some garden seeds. 

One Friday afternoon in March, when the 
Pilgrims were busy about their log cabins, a 
tall, half-naked Indian came out of the woods 
at the top of the hill. He walked boldly 
toward the little village of log houses and 
cried out, “ Welcome, Englishmen, welcome! ” 

11 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


It seems that the Indian’s name was 
Samoset and that he had lived on the coast 
of Maine, where he picked up a few English 
words from the fishermen. It was believed 
that he mistook the Mayflower for a fishing 
vessel and felt free to enter the little village. 

The Pilgrims treated their savage guest 
kindly. They gave him a coat to cover his 
bare shoulders; and they fed him on “ bis¬ 
cuit, butter, cheese, pudding, and roast duck.” 
They would gladly have got rid of their 
guest for the night, but he was not willing to 
go; and so they let him stay in one of the 
log houses, where they watched him to keep 
him from doing harm. In the morning they 
sent him away, “ after giving him a knife, a 
bracelet, and a ring.” 

Samoset was so well pleased with his new 
friends that he came back on a visit the next 
day, which was Sunday. This time he brought 
five other Indians with him. They were tall, 
sturdy men, dressed in deerskins. Some had 
their faces painted black. They brought their 

12 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


own food with them. It was Indian corn. 
They pounded it into meal, put it into a little 
water, and then ate it. Governor Bradford 
says: “ They would eat liberally of our Eng¬ 
lish victuals; although it was Sunday, the 
redskins sang and danced, after their manner, 
like antics.” 

The Pilgrims sent the Indians away before 
night. Samoset pretended to be sick; he 
would not go until the next Wednesday. He 
went home a well-pleased and proud Indian, 
for the Pilgrims gave him a hat, a pair of 
shoes and stockings, a shirt, and a piece of 
cloth to tie about his waist.” 

On Thursday Samoset came again, bringing 
still another Indian with him. The name of 
this Indian was Squanto, a sort of nickname 
for Squantum or Tisquantum. 

It seems that Squanto had once lived in this 
region, but had been kidnapped by the cap¬ 
tain of an English vessel and carried to Eng¬ 
land. He lived in London and learned to 
speak English pretty well. Then some kind- 

13 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


hearted sea-captain brought him back and put 
him ashore on the coast of Maine. Thence he 
wandered back to his native place, only to 
find most of his people dead. Squanto said 
that many Indians once lived in this region 
and had large fields of corn; but some dreadful 
disease broke out, from which nearly all of 
them died. 

Squanto proved a useful friend to the Pil¬ 
grims from the very first. He took them out 
to a little river close by, and showed them how 
to fish for eels. He trod the eels out of the 
mud and caught them with his hands. Gov¬ 
ernor Bradford says in his journal, “ The eels 
were fat and sweet, and our people were glad 
of them.” 

Shortly afterwards Squanto came to live 
with the Pilgrims. It would be a long story to 
tell you all this Indian did for his half-starved 
friends. 

When the Pilgrims made their first trip 
along the shore of Cape Cod they found 
several basketfuls of corn, which the Indians 

14 



SQUANTO NOW TAUGHT THEM HOW TO GET THE OLD 
INOIAN CORNEIEI.I) KEAOV EOR A NEW CROP. 

Page 15. 










THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


had buried in the sand. They saved enough 
of this to plant in the spring. Squanto now 
taught them how to get the old Indian corn¬ 
field ready for a new crop. He showed them 
how to catch the little fish called alewives, 
and put two or three into every hill of corn 
to make the corn grow better. He also showed 
his friends how to watch the cornfields to 
prevent the wolves from digging up the fish. . 

It has been said that without the seed corn 
and the help of Squanto the whole Plymouth 
settlement would have starved to death 
before the end of the first year. The Pilgrims 
had left their old home in England without 
hooks and lines for fishing. Here again 
Squanto was able to lend a hand, and taught 
his friends how to catch fish and lobsters 
after the Indian fashion. 

Squanto now began to serve the settlers in 
another way. The chief of the Indians in the 
Plymouth region was Massasoit. He had 
been told wonderful things about the white¬ 
faced strangers, and wished to visit them. 

15. 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 

One day he came with some of his warriors 
to the top of the hill to make a friendly visit, 
and Squanto was sent out to talk with him. 
Shortly afterward Massasoit and twenty red¬ 
skins came tramping into the settlement, 
leaving their bows and arrows behind them. 
This Indian chief was a tall, strong young 
man. He wore a large chain of white bone 
beads about his neck; at the back of his neck 
hung a little bag of tobacco, which he smoked 
and gave to the Pilgrims to smoke. His 
face was painted a deep red; his head and 
face were so covered with oil that he “ looked 
greasily.” His warriors were tall and strong, 
and were painted, some black, some red, 
some yellow, and some white. 

The chief and his warriors went marching 
slowly along the narrow street and into the 
large log cabin. A great noise was made with 
a trumpet, and some of the men fired their 
muskets. Governor Bradford did the honors. 
He kissed the chief’s hand, and Massasoit 
kissed the governor, and then they sat down 

16 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


for a talk. The Indian chief sat on a green 
mat, with some cushions placed round him. 

Massasoit was greatly pleased with his re¬ 
ception. A copper chain and some beads 
were given to him. He said he would live in 
peace with his white-faced friends. The red¬ 
skin chief kept his word. The treaty was 
kept sacred for more than fifty years. 

Squanto liked to tell his Indian friends 
about the white-faced settlers. He said the 
Pilgrims kept gunpowder in the cellars of the 
log cabins; in the same place, he said, where 
the plague was kept. If an Indian did any 
harm to the strangers, the plague would be 
let loose to destroy every redskin along the 
coast. 

The Pilgrims owed a good deal of money to 
their friends in England; for they had been 
obliged to run into debt to fit out the May¬ 
flower. After a while they coasted along the 
shore to trade with the Indians for furs and 
corn. On such trips Squanto was a great 
help as pilot. Late one fall, about two years 

17 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


after Squanto came to live with the Pilgrims, 
he sailed with his friends outside of Cape Cod 
as far as the elbow. This place is now known 
as Chatham. Here the Indians were shy of the 
strangers, but Squanto at last induced them 
to sell eight hogsheads of corn and beans. 

Poor Squanto! On this trip he was taken 
with a fever and died in a few days. Before he 
died he gave some of his things to his English 
friends as keepsakes. His last words were, 
“ Pray that the Indian Squanto may go to 
the white man’s heaven.” 


18 


Ill 

THE BRAVERY OF HANNAH DUSTIN 

K ing PHILIP, the famous Indian chief, 
was killed just a'hundred years before 
the Declaration of Independence. His 
death put an end to the so-called King Philip’s 
War. The settlers in New England now had 
a period of rest from the redskins. 

Peace did not last long. Another war came. 
This was called King William’s War. It be¬ 
gan in the year 1690, and lasted seven years. 
At this time William was king of England, 
and Louis XIV was king of France. Louis 
declared war against William, and ordered his 
people in Canada to make war on the English 
people who had settled along the coast of 
New England. 


19 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Now we must keep in mind that in this war, 
as in the other French and Indian Wars, the 
Indians generally fought on the side of the 
French, against the English. The savages 
came down from Canada, sometimes on snow- 
shoes in the dead of winter, and did all 
manner of cruel deeds. They killed the 
settlers, burned their log cabins, and carried 
off the women and children to Canada, where 
they traded them for strong drink, muskets, 
and gunpowder. 

The last years of King William’s War were 
dreadful. We are told that twelve hundred 
cabins were burned and that nearly six hun¬ 
dred persons were killed or carried away to 
Canada as prisoners. It was a life of constant 
terror. 

There are many thrilling tales of those 
Indian attacks. Few other towns suffered 
so many hardships as Haverhill, Massachu¬ 
setts, now a large and prosperous city, but 
in those early days a little village of thirty log 
cabins. The redskins used to come down the 

20 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Merrimac River in their canoes and lurk in the 
woods for weeks to burn some lonely house or 
scalp the men at work in the fields. They 
would then paddle up the river with their 
captives and steal out of sight in the deep 
forests of New Hampshire. 

One morning in the middle of March, 1697, 
a settler named Thomas Dustin was busy 
cutting firewood half a mile or so from his 
cabin and about two miles from Haverhill. 
His wife, Hannah Dustin, was sick in bed. 

All of a sudden, with wild yells, a party of 
twenty Indians rushed out of the woods and 
started across the clearing toward the cabin. 

“ Indians! Indians! Here they come! 
shouted Hannah, the oldest daughter, bursting 
into the house. 

“ Now, Hannah, and you, Elizabeth, get the 
little ones out of the house as quick as you 
can and run down the road! ” cried Mrs. 
Neff, who was nursing Mrs. Dustin. “ See 
if you can reach the village before the Indians 
get you.” 


21 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


There was not a moment to spare. Down 
the cart-road, through the woods, ran the 
seven Dustin children as fast as their legs 
could carry them. Thomas, a stout lad of 
fourteen, carried Timothy, only three years 
old, while little Jonathan and Abigail did their 
best to keep up with the older children. 

Mr. Dustin, who was at work at the edge 
of the woods, had seen the Indians crossing the 
clearing. He seized his musket, jumped on 
his horse, and galloped home. 

“ Keep to the cart-road, children! Run for 
your lives! ” 

When he reached the cabin, the Indians 
were already inside. It seemed to him there 
was only one thing to do. He must leave his 
wife and try to save his children. 

In another moment he was galloping down 
the road. He caught up with the children 
about a quarter of a mile from the house. For 
a moment he thought he would take up the 
little boy or the little girl; but he made up 
his mind to try to save them all. 

22 



MR. DUSTIN STOPPED HIS HORSE AND FACED THE 
SAVAGES. Page 23. 








THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


‘‘ Run, children, run! I’ll keep the Indians 
back; run for the blockhouse on the hill! ” 

Half a dozen Indians had left the cabin 
and were coming after them. Mr. Dustin 
stopped his horse and faced the savages. They 
fired at him. He fired back, and a savage fell. 
The Indians stopped for a moment, and Mr. 
Dustin turned and galloped after his children. 
The Indians came on again and fired at him. 
He returned the fire and again followed the 
children. 

After a time the savages gave up the chase 
and ran back to the cabin. Mr.' Dustin and 
the children soon reached the clearing in 
front of the blockhouse. The people rushed 
out to their help, and the next minute all 
were safe inside. 

Poor Mrs. Dustin was having a hard time of 
it. The savages dragged the weak and 
trembling woman out of bed and gave her a 
few minutes to dress. They took from the 
cabin all they could carry with them, and 
then set it on fire. Mrs. Dustin, with Mrs. 

23 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Neff carrying the baby, together with about 
a dozen other captives, had to begin the long 
tramp to Canada. The party had gone only 
a little way when the baby began to cry. A 
savage took it and killed it. 

It was a long and weary tramp through the 
deep forests of New Hampshire. Mrs. Dustin 
and Mrs. Neff fell to the lot of an Indian 
called Big Bear, who lived a few miles above 
Concord, on an island in the Merrimac 
River. This island has ever since been known 
as Dustin’s Island. The Indian’s family 
consisted of two warriors, three squaws, and 
seven children, besides a lad named Samuel 
Lenardson, captured two years before. 

Mary,” said Mrs. Dustin one day to Mrs. 
Neff, “ the Indians have told Sam that we 
are soon to start for Canada. I am not going 
to tramp there, to be sold like cattle or to be 
tortured. I have a plan by which we may 
escape and perhaps get home again.” 

Mrs. Dustin said she would kill Big Bear 
with a tomahawk. Mrs. Neff was to shoot the 

24 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


other Indian, while Sam was to kiU one of the 
squaws. After this all three were to kill the 
rest of the Indians as best they could. 

Long before daybreak Mrs. Dustin silently 
waked Mrs. Neff and the boy. The Indians 
were sound asleep. Still as mice, these three 
people stole across the wigwam and stood over 
the victims. 

‘‘ Now! ” cried Mrs. Dustin, and all did 
their part. 

All three Indians were killed. Short work 
was made of seven of the others. One Indian 
woman, although struck several times with 
a tomahawk, escaped into the woods. One 
Indian boy, in the words of the famous Cotton 
Mather, to whom Mrs. Dustin told her story 
five years after, “ scuttled away from this 
desolation ” into the forest. 

Not a moment was to be lost. The two 
Indians who had escaped might carry the 
alarm to other redskins. With the tomahawks 
they made holes in all the canoes but one. 
They then took a few handfuls of dried corn 

25 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


from the wigwam, threw some blankets into 
the canoe, and the next moment they were 
paddling down the river. 

Mrs. Dustin suddenly stopped paddling. 

Why, Mary!” she cried; “our people 
will never believe we killed ten Indians. We 
must go back and scalp them, and carry the 
scalps home with us.” 

So back to the wigwam the women paddled 
the canoe. Soon ten bloody scalps, wrapped 
in a piece of cloth, were laid in the bottom of 
the canoe. Once more the two women were 
paddling swiftly down the Merrimac. There 
was danger every moment from lurking In¬ 
dians, or from the rapids, swollen by the 
spring floods. 

In spite of perils and narrow escapes, the 
tired and weary party reached Haverhill in 
safety. Great was the surprise when they 
walked into the little village. Their friends 
had given them up for dead. Still greater 
was the wonder when the settlers saw the 
scalps. And we can well believe that the 

26 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Dustin children shed tears of joy when 
they saw their mother home again safe and 
well. 

The story of Hannah Dustin’s exploit went 
far and wide. The colony paid her fifty dollars 
apiece for the scalps. And even the governor 
of far-away Maryland sent her a present, 
with a letter praising her for her brave deed. 

The famous tomahawk was lost, but the 
musket is still to be seen in Haverhill, while 
several pieces of the cloth in which the scalps 
were wrapped are kept as relics by the great- 
great-great-grandchildren of Hannah Dustin. 


27 


IV 

A FAMOUS WRITING - DESK 

T he War of the American Revolution 
began in 1775. Up to that time the 
colonies in this country were subject 
to England. 

In 1760, George the Third, a young man of 
twenty-two, came to the English throne. He 
needed money and listened to the advice of 
unwise men. 

Tax the Americans,” they urged; “ make 
them pay on everything they receive in our 
ships; they are rich and will not mind it.” 

King George tried in another way also to 
force money out of the colonists. A law was 
made that every piece of paper on which 
notes, deeds, and such things were written, 

28 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


should have a stamp on it. Even the alma¬ 
nacs and the newspapers had to have stamps 
on them. These stamps cost from one cent 
to fifty cents each. 

This law was called the Stamp Act. It 
made the people very angry. In Virginia a 
great and bold patriot named Patrick Henry 
told the people to use any paper they pleased, 
and pay no heed to the new law. The people 
made up their minds not to submit to such 
taxation. They refused to buy the stamps 
and burned all they could get. On the day 
the law went into effect shops were closed, 
church bells tolled, and flags were placed 
at half-mast. 

Not long after this the English king laid a 
tax on glass, paper, tea, and other things. 

The trouble between the king and his 
American subjects grew more and more 
bitter. 

“ Pay the taxes,’’ King George insisted, 
“ or I will send my soldiers and make you.” 

Our people replied that it was not the 
29 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


amount of the tax that they cared for. They 
claimed that King George had no right to tax 
them at all without their consent; and they 
declared over and over that they would not 
obey. 

True to his word, King George sent soldiers 
to force the people to submit. Two regiments 
of redcoats were quartered in Boston. 

This of course made our people very angry. 
They hated the soldiers and called them bad 
names. The soldiers paid back insult with 
insult. 

I One day a number of angry schoolboys 
complained to the British commander that 
the redcoats had destroyed their sledding on 
Boston Common. 

“ The very children here,” remarked Gen¬ 
eral Gage to one of his officers, ‘‘ draw in a 
love of liberty with the air they breathe.” 

Then a quarrel arose one evening in Boston 
between the soldiers and the people. The 
soldiers fired into the crowd, and five people 
were killed and seven wounded. 

30 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


The bells of the city were rung, and the 
roar of angry voices filled the narrow streets. 
Quiet was not restored until the troops were 
sent to a fort in the harbor. 

Three years later King George took the 
tax off everything except tea. He said he 
kept this to show the Yankees he had a 
right to tax them. 

Ship after ship filled with tea was sent to 
this country, but not a pound of it was 
allowed to be sold. Hundreds of chests were 
stored in damp cellars and left to spoil. 
Some of the ships carried their cargoes back 
to England. 

One winter day in 1773 two ships came to 
Boston, but were not allowed to unload their 
tea. In the night a party of men dressed like 
Indians rushed on board the vessel, broke 
open the chests, three hundred and forty-two 
in all, and threw their contents into the sea. 

Of course the king was very angry. More 
troops were sent over, and affairs went 
rapidly from bad to worse. 

31 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Wise men all over the land saw that war 
must come. Guns and gunpowder were made 
ready. Hundreds of men formed themselves 
in companies to fight at a minute’s notice. 

War broke out shortly afterwards. It 
began with the Battle of Lexington, April 19, 
1775. A few weeks later a hard-fought battle 
took place on Bunker Hill. 

We must not forget that during all this 
time our people called themselves loyal British 
subjects. They had fought as Englishmen 
for their rights, and not against England. 

Slowly but surely, however, the idea of 
independence began to grow. Men saw that 
they were really fighting for freedom. Public 
meetings were called, and the question was 
talked over. Some of the best men in the 
colonies were sent to Philadelphia to attend a 
meeting there. On that occasion a staunch 
patriot from Virginia offered a resolution, 
saying, “ These united colonies are, and of a 
right ought to be, a free and independent 
state.” 


32 



THAT WILL MAKE KING GEORGE GNASH HIS TEETH 
SAID THE GENIAL OLD GENTLEMAN. Page 33. 









THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Five of the ablest men of the country were 
selected to prepare a statement for publica¬ 
tion. Thomas Jefferson of Virginia; chairman 
of this committee, was chosen to draw up the 
paper. He was not a strong public speaker, 
but he was known as a writer of plain and 
simple English. 

Now Jefferson had rented rooms of a 
cabinet-maker named Ben Randall; and it 
seems that he planned a writing-desk, and 
had Mr. Randall make it for him. It was a 
plain little affair of mahogany, and stood only 
about three inches high from the table on 
which it was placed. • 

Well, this desk has come to be famous, for 
on it Jefferson wrote that wonderful docu¬ 
ment known as the Declaration of Inde¬ 
pendence. ' 

When Jefferson had finished the writing, he 
invited Benjamin Franklin to call at his room 
to hear what he had written. 

“ That’s good enough; I wish I had written 
it myself; that will make King George gnash 

33 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


his teeth,” said the genial old gentleman, 
when the different passages were read to him. 

There was a lively debate when the Dec¬ 
laration was presented to the delegates at 
Philadelphia, With a few slight changes, 
however, it was finally adopted. It was 
signed on July 4, 1776. 

We may be sure it was a time of deep in¬ 
terest to the hundreds gathered outside the 
Old State House on that hot July afternoon. 
The old bell-ringer had been in the belfry 
since morning, having placed a boy in the 
hall below to wait for the signal. 

. “ They will never do it, they will never do 
it! ” cried the old bell-ringer, impatiently 
shaking his head. 

Suddenly a shout came from below. The 
boy, wild with excitement, came running up 
the belfry stairs, calling out, ‘‘ Ring! ring! ” 

And the old man rang the bell as it had 
never been rung before. 

Riders on the swiftest horses carried the 
glad news far and wide. Cannon were fired, 

34 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


bells were rung, patriotic music was played, 
flags were flung to the breeze, and bonfires 
were lighted on hills and mountains. 

Look at a copy of the Declaration of Inde¬ 
pendence and see the big bold signature of 
John Hancock of Massachusetts. 

‘‘ There! ” exclaimed this great patriot; 
“ King George can read that without spec¬ 
tacles.” 

Stephen Hopkins of Rhode Island was sick 
at this time; his name is written with a 
shaky hand. 

“ See how my hand trembles,” he said; 
“ but my heart does not.” 

‘‘We must all hang together in this matter,” 
were the words of John Hancock, when they 
crowded round the table to sign their names 
to the document. 

“ Surely,” replied the witty Benjamin 
Franklin; “ we must indeed, or we shall all 
hang separately.” 

All honor to the fifty-six bold patriots who 
signed the Declaration of Independence. They 

35 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK > 


staked “ their lives, their fortunes, and their 
sacred honor.” They were chosen men of 
high purpose and exalted character. They 
were fit to become the leaders of the young 
nation. 

Thomas Jefferson’s Declaration of Inde¬ 
pendence is now in Washington. It has 
become worn and faded, but is preserved as 
a most sacred document. 

As for the little mahogany writing-desk, it 
too has found its way to Washington, to rest 
with other precious relics of colonial days. 
Jefferson gave it, when an old man, to his 
granddaughter. It remained in her family 
until recently, when it was presented to 
Congress and became the property of the 
nation. 


36 


V 

BESSIE FISHER OUTWITS THE TORIES 

D uring the time of our Revolution 
the country north of New York City 
was wild and rugged. This region 
was often called the neutral ground; for it 
was not within either the British or the 
American lines. It extended for thirty miles 
along the Hudson River, and took in nearly 
all of Westchester County. 

The reckless and lawless stragglers of both 
armies found it a convenient place to do about 
as they pleased. Houses and barns were 
burned, crops destroyed, and cattle and horses 
stolen to such an extent that the people were 
heartily sick and tired of war. 

These stragglers were divided into two 
37 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


parties. The cowboys, as they were called, 
belonged mostly to the British side, and spent 
their time in stealing cattle and driving them 
to New York. The second party was known 
as the Skinners. They lived chiefly within the 
patriot lines, but they were brutal and cruel, 
and plundered and stole everything they 
could lay their hands on. 

This neutral ground, which was almost 
like a battlefield, was not a pleasant place 
for a young couple to begin housekeeping in, 
but just as the war broke out Andrew and 
Bessie Fisher moved into their neat little log 
cabin on one of the hillsides. 

They lived in peace only a few weeks. 
Andrew enlisted in the patriot army, and soon 
became one of Washington’s boldest and most 
trusted scouts. The young bride went to 
Washington’s camp and nursed the sick and 
wounded soldiers. After a time, however, she 
went home; and she was living alone at the 
time our story begins. The young husband 
now and then made short trips to see his wife; 

38 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


but such visits were full of risk. The British 
were always on the watch to capture him. 

Late one afternoon Andrew came rushing 
into the house. 

“ Save me! Save me, Bessie! The redcoats 
are after me, just round the bend of the road. 
Hide me, or they will catch me.” 

Bessie quickly pulled up some of the rough 
boards of the kitchen floor. There was a hole 
beneath, deep enough to conceal a man. 

“ Jump in here! Quick, Andrew! ” 

The young man crawled in, and Bessie put 
the boards in place, just as the British soldiers 
began to pound on the door of the cabin. 

“ Surrender, you rebel! We saw you run 
in! ” shouted the officer in command. “We 
have got you this time! ” 

Bessie’s heart was beating fast, but she put 
on a calm face. “ Search the house all you 
please,” was her quiet answer. 

The troopers rushed in and examined every 
nook and corner of the cabin, but no scout 
could they find. 


39 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Before midnight Andrew crawled out of the 
dark hole under the kitchen floor and escaped 
to Washington’s camp. 

On another occasion, not many months 
later, Mrs. Fisher was again expecting a visit 
from her husband. The time was indeed 
full of peril, for the cowboys and Skinners 
were doing wicked things in the neutral 
ground. The devoted wife, however, was 
keeping close watch. Just at sunset she looked 
out of her cabin window to be sure that nobody 
was in sight. 

She watched a clump of woods a little way 
back of the cabin. Suddenly she saw a man 
running at full speed toward her. As he 
dashed along he looked back, stumbled and 
fell, but in a flash was up and running again, 
as if for life. 

“ It must be Andrew. The Tories are after 
him again. Oh dear! what shall w^e do? ” 

The scout was soon inside the house. 

“ The Tories! They are coming! Hide me 
quick, somewhere, anywhere! ” 

40 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Oh, what shall I do? ” thought the good 
wife. They will surely capture him this 
time. Oh, what shall I do? ” 

She glanced into the yard. Near the kitchen 
door she saw her hens scratching in the ash 
heap. She seized a feather brush that was 
hanging beside the fireplace. She pulled out 
several quills, and with a knitting-needle 
pushed the pith out. Then she joined the 
quills together, making a tube of them. 

‘‘Quick, Andrew! There is not a minute 
to spare.’’ 

She ran into the yard with a shovel and 
began digging in the side of the ash heap. 

“ Quick! ” and she gave the quill tube to her 
husband. “ Hold this in your mouth and get 
into this hole; I will cover 3 mu up. Keep your 
eyes and mouth shut.” 

The scout lay down in the hole. Quick as 
a wink his wife covered him with ashes, 
leaving the end of the tube free, so that he 
could breathe. 

She then hurried back into the house and 
41 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


stood ready to greet her visitors when they 
came riding up to the door. 

“ Who are you, and what do you want? ” 
she asked. 

“ Let us have that young Andrew Fisher,” 
replied the captain of the Tory party. 

“ Come in and find him, if you think he is 
here.” 

“ Come on, boys! ” and the captain led the 
way. “ Last year this woman hid her husband 
under the kitchen floor. Perhaps he is hid 
there now.” 

Twenty or more of the Tory band searched 
the cabin. They took up the kitchen floor; 
they tore open the feather beds; they kicked 
over tables and chairs; they went up the lad¬ 
der and examined the loft. But no Andrew 
Fisher was to be found. 

“ Go out and search the bam,” ordered the 
captain, walking toward the ash heap. 

And now poor Bessie was almost ready to 
faint with fear. But the officer soon left the 
spot and followed his men to the barn. 

42 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


At last, after ransacking the premises, the 
Tories gave up the search. 

“If we ever catch that rebel husband of 
yours, we wiU hang him to the nearest tree! ” 
shouted the angry captain, as he and his gang 
rode off down the valley. 

It was a strange-looking man that crawled 
out of the ash heap a few minutes after the 
Tories rode away. Covered from head to 
foot with ashes, almost choked for want of 
air, and his eyes filled with dust, the poor 
scout looked sorry enough. But soap and 
water soon made a new man of him. 

“ What were you thinking of when you were 
under the ashes? ” asked Bessie, with a hearty 
laugh. 

“ I thought of what our good preacher says 
sometimes, ‘ Ashes to ashes.' " 

“ True enough,” added Bessie; “ but out 
of the ashes you came to life again. Perhaps 
it wiU be so with our poor country.” 


43 


VI 

TEMPY WICKS HIDES HER HORSE 

T he War of the Revolution had been 
going on for two years. Washington 
and his army were in camp near 
Morristown, New Jersey, not far from New 
York City. The British army was in camp 
near by. 

A little distance away was an estate known 
as the Wicks farm. On it lived its owner, Mr. 
Wicks, with an only daughter, a young girl 
named Temperance. She was called Tempy 
for short. She owned a fine horse named 
Flora. 

Now that there was war in the land, strag¬ 
glers from both armies were making no end of 
trouble. Still, the young girl rode here and 

44 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 

there and ever 3 rwhere, without fear, just as 
she had done in times of peace. 

“ Washington’s soldiers will do me no 
harm,” thought Tempy; “ and I am sure 
my Flora can run faster than any horse the 
redcoats have. Let them catch me if they 
can.” 

It was a lovely afternoon in June, and 
Tempy was returning home through the 
woods after a long ride. She was within a 
mile or so of the farm. All of a sudden from 
a clump of bushes beside the road stepped 
out a dozen British soldiers. 

“ Halt, young woman! ” cried the sergeant. 

She looked round in surprise. There were 
the redcoats drawn up in line, aiming their 
guns at her. The girl spoke to her horse, 
and the faithful animal stopped. Up rushed 
the soldiers and seized the bridle. 

“ What do you want of me? ” asked Tempy; 
“ this horse is mine, and I am on my way 
home; you have no right to stop me.” 

Never mind, miss; this is a fine horse of 
45 


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THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


yours; ” and the sergeant took a good look 
at Flora. 

“ She certainly is, but she belongs to me, 
and I must ride home at once; so let me 
go.” 

“ Not so fast, young lady,’’ continued the 
officer. This is just the horse my captain 
wants; his own horse died last week.” 

“ I don’t care anything about your captain 
and what he wants,” cried Tempy, getting a 
little angry. “ Go about your business and 
let me get home.” 

“ I have orders to take horses wherever I 
find them,” was the calm reply of the officer; 
“ so, young miss, jump down! ” 

The girl saw that the redcoats were in ear¬ 
nest and were bound to rob her of her horse. 
She was keen-witted and quickly made up her 
mind what to do. She pretended to be get¬ 
ting ready to dismount. The redcoat who 
held the bridle let go of it, and turned aside 
for a moment to speak to a comrade. Quick 
as a flash the girl gave the spirited horse a 

46 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


cut with her whip, dashed between two of the 
soldiers, and was gone. 

“ Fire, men, fire! ” shouted the sergeant. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

The soldiers had fired their guns into the 
air, thinking to make the girl stop. 

It was too late. Tempy was far down the 
road, riding as fast as the swift horse could 
carry her. 

The redcoats did not give up the chase. 
Some of them knew where the girl lived. They 
ran through the woods, hoping to reach the 
Wicks farm first. 

“ What shall I do with Flora when I get 
her home? ” and Tempy wrinkled her pretty 
brow; “ there are no men to help me, and 
these redcoats will be sure to go to the barn 
and carry her off. What shall I do? ” 

She could ride over to one of the neighbors, 
but sooner or later she would have to come 
back. The redcoats would watch for her, 
even if it took a week. If she tied her horse 
to a tree in the woods and came back on foot, 

47 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


the soldiers would soon find the animal’s 
hiding-place. 

Tempy did some lively thinking while she 
was riding home. An idea came to her just 
as she was within sight of the house. She 
looked down the road. The redcoats were not 
in sight. 

Not a moment was to be lost. She dashed 
through the front gate of the large yard 
and jumped from her horse at the back door. 
Opening the door, she led the gentle animal 
through the kitchen into the front hall, and 
then into the parlor. 

Now off the parlor was a bedroom, which 
was a guest chamber. There was only one 
window, and the shutters were closed when 
the room was not in use. Into this dark 
room Tempy quickly led her horse, and tied 
her to the bedpost. 

Hardly had the young girl made everything 
snug when the angry soldiers came tramping 
into the yard. They searched the big barn, 
the carriage house, and the woodshed. At 

48 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


last they came into the house and looked high 
and low, but they did not find the horse. 

“ Where did you hide that horse, young 
girl? ” growled the sergeant. “ Tell us, or 
there will be trouble.” 

Very well,” smiled Tempy; but if you 
get my horse, you will have to find her first.” 

Angry words were of no use; and at last 
the redcoats gave up the search and rode back 
to their camp. Flora was quietly eating her 
oats in the best bedroom. The noise of her 
feet had been muffled with a litter of hay. 

As the story goes, Tempy kept her horse in 
the bedroom for three weeks. Shortly after¬ 
ward the British troops broke up their camp 
in New Jersey and went back to New York. 
Not one of them, however, rode on Tempy’s 
horse. When the redcoats had gone. Flora 
came out of the guest chamber and went 
back to her stall in the big barn. 


49 


VII 


PEGGY MILLER GOES MARKETING 

W ELL, Peggy, my girl, I have told 
you exactly what to say and what 
to do; and now if you arc really 
afraid, you need not go. The trip is full of 
danger, and you are pretty young to be sent 
on such an errand.’’ 

“ Perhaps I am a bit afraid. Major Tal- 
madge,” quietly answered Peggy Miller, a 
young girl of sixteen. ‘‘ But never mind that; 
I am ready to go and I’ll do my best.” 

For several months there had been sharp 
fighting around Philadelphia. The patriot 
army had the worst of it. General Washing¬ 
ton and his ragged, half-starved men were in 
camp a few miles outside of Philadelphia, 

50 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


while the British were living in the city itself, 
in ease and comfort. 

Major Talmadge was in command of patriot 
cavalry that rode to and fro between the out¬ 
posts of the two armies. His duty was to find 
out what he could about the British and send 
the news to headquarters. 

This patriot officer had sent some of his 
youngest men, dressed as country lads, into 
the city with garden stuff to sell. The young 
men went to certain houses and brought back 
important information and letters, which 
were sent at once to General Washington at 
Valley Forge. But Major Talmadge had been 
warned that his messengers were suspected 
by the British, and that it would be no longer 
safe to send them again on such dangerous 
errands. 

At the time of our story, which was in the 
winter of 1777, it was certain that the British 
were getting ready to make an important 
move. General Washington must learn their 
purpose, and learn it at once. 

51 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Major Talmadge and a few of his bold 
riders were staying at a small tavern a few 
miles from Philadelphia. The tavern was kept 
by a Mrs. Miller, whose husband and son 
were at Valley Forge with Washington. Her 
only daughter, Peggy, helped about the inn. 

Your daughter is just the one to go into 
the city and bring back the news I must 
have,’’ said Major Talmadge to Mrs. Miller 
on this winter morning. 

“ Peggy is willing to help. Major, but she is 
too young to go on such an errand.” 

In came the girl herself. 

“ Let me try, mother,” she urged; “ I 
am not afraid of the redcoats; I cannot be 
idle while father and brother Ben are freezing 
and starving at Valley Forge.” 

And so it came about that the young girl, 
carrying a basket of eggs on her arm, set out 
for Philadelphia early the next morning. The 
country roads were bad, and the day was cold. 
These things did not trouble her, for she was 
thinking more of the peril before her. 

52 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


Nobody paid any heed to her until she was 
near the city. 

Here, my girl! Stop and tell us what you 
have to sell,” cried one of a half dozen British 
soldiers standing near the roadside. 

Peggy’s heart began to thump, and she 
wished she were at home with her mother. 

“ Only a few fresh eggs,” she replied, turning 
pale. ^ 

‘‘ Good! I will take all you have; our mess 
is sadly in need of fresh eggs.” 

“ No, indeed, sir, I cannot let you have all, 
for most of them are promised to Mistress 
Morgan on Chestnut Street.” 

“ Aha! that’s the house where all you coun¬ 
try people sell your stuff. Something is wrong 
about that house.” 

Peggy set her basket down on the ground. 

“ I can sell you two dozen; ” and she began 
to count out the eggs. 

Nay, nay, my girl; we don’t want your 
eggs; I was only in fun. Some of you people 
are bringing in strange things for sale. Go 

53 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


and sell your eggs; I think you are an honest 
girl/' 

Peggy picked up her basket and walked on. 
Once she looked back and saw the soldiers 
watching her. They seemed to be talking 
about her. She hurried along until she 
reached the street where Mrs. Morgan lived. 
She ran up the steps of the mansion and 
lifted the huge knocker. A redcoat stand¬ 
ing at the street corner watched her as she 
stood at the door. Presently a maid ap¬ 
peared. 

“ I must see Mistress Morgan; I have some 
eggs to sell; I hope she will buy some.” 

“ Come in and I will call the mistress.” 

In a few minutes Mrs. Morgan, a stately 
and prim Quaker lady, entered. 

“ What can I do for thee, my girl? ” she 
asked kindly. 

“ I have some fresh eggs to sell.” 

“ Is thee sure they are fresh? ” 

“ Yes, madam, they are fresh eggs.” 

Mrs. Morgan gave her a quick, sharp look. 

54 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


“ You have brought your eggs to the right 
market.” 

Xhe lady took the basket and carried it to 
the kitchen. When she returned, the basket 
had a loaf of bread in it. Not a word was said, 
but Peggy had been told that a letter to Gen¬ 
eral Washington would be hidden in the loaf 
of bread. 

“ If thee must destroy the bread,” said Mrs. 
Morgan, pointing to the basket, ^ “ simply 
repeat these two words to Major Talmadge, 
‘ Not yet.’ Does thee catch my meaning? ” 

“ Certainly, madam,” and Peggy made a 
low bow. 

She took her basket and made ready to 
leave the house. She looked sharply about 
as she walked slowly down the front steps. 
Nobody was to be seen. Even the redcoat 
was not in sight. 

The young girl hurried along until she 
reached the outskirts of the city. There she 
found the soldiers whom she had met be¬ 
fore. 


55 


THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


“ Come here, my girl, and tell us about it,” 
one of them called out. 

“ I have sold my eggs,” was her simple 
answer. 

“ What have you in your basket now, my 
girl? What’s this? As sure as I live, it’s a 
loaf of bread. It looks good enough to eat; ” 
and the redcoat roughly grasped the basket 
and pulled out the loaf. 

“ No, indeed! Please! ” begged Peggy; 
“ it is for my little sister, who is sick. Please 
give it back to me.” 

“ Let the girl alone. Jack,” broke in another 
of the redcoats. “ Give her back the bread; 
we are not hungry enough to rob her.” 

With a laugh the man put the loaf back and 
gave her the basket again. 

“ Run home, girl, and don’t let us catch you 
another time. The next time we will arrest 
you and send you to General Howe. Hurry 
now and get out of our sight.” 

Peggy did not need to be told to hurry. 
Without looking behind her she walked rapidly 

56 



IT WAS A MAD RACE FOR AN HOUR. Page 57. 






THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


away. Pretty soon she broke into a run. Out 
of breath and very tired, the young girl was 
at last safe and sound at home again. 

You have done well, my girl,’’ were the 
words of praise of Major Talmadge, when he 
broke open the bread and found the note 
inside. General Washington shall read this 
before sunset, and you shall not be forgotten.” 

Mrs. Miller burst into the room. 

Ride for your life. Major! The British 
are coming down the long hill. They will be 
here in a few minutes.” 

The major turned hurriedly to Peggy: 

The redcoats are after us, Peggy; they 
suspect your errand. You must go with 
me.” 

Major Talmadge sprang on his horse and 
took the girl up behind him. The next 
moment they were galloping down the road. 

It was a mad race for an hour. Down the 
hills, through the woods, across the rude 
bridges, the sturdy horse, covered with foam, 
carried the two safe into Germantown. Not 

57 


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until the village was reached did the redcoats 
give up the chase. 

The major helped the tired girl to the 
ground. 

“ Well, Peggy, it was a pity to lose that loaf 
of bread, when so many of our men sadly need 
it. Still, General Washington needs that 
letter far more than all the bread in the 
whole Quaker city.” 

A proud and happy girl was Peggy Miller 
the next morning when a company of troopers 
escorted her back to her home at the old 
inn. General Washington wrote her a little 
note, to thank her and tell her that her wit 
and coolness had saved him and the army 
from what might have been a sad mistake. 


58 


VIII 


PAUL Russell’s bacon is saved 

P AUL RUSSELL, a sturdy young patriot 
of South Carolina, was not happy. He 
was standing on the piazza of his 
father’s house and gazing over the broad 
fields of the plantation. This was in the year 
1780. Of all the dark years of the Revolution 
this was one of the darkest. One disaster 
quickly followed another. 

Paul was a boy of sixteen. He and his 
father. Major John Russell, were in General 
Sumter’s army, but had gone home for a 
brief visit. 

The Tories found it out, and one dark night 
they swooped down on the plantation and 
captured both father and son. Paul was left 

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at home on parole, but his father was sent at 
once on his way to the prison at Charleston. 

The boy was quick-witted enough to send a 
negro to a company of patriots close by and 
tell them of his father’s capture. The pa¬ 
triots attacked the British escort halfway to 
Charleston and routed them; Major Rus¬ 
sell escaped and went on duty again with 
General Sumter. 

At this time the British soldiers were 
scattered far and wide over South Carolina. 
They were quartered in small companies on 
the plantations. Captain Heald, one of 
Tarleton’s officers, and fifty of his men were 
making themselves at home on the Russell 
plantation. 

While Paul walked to and fro along the 
broad piazza, idly watching the soldiers, he 
could see the British sentries on guard, march¬ 
ing up and down the turnpike. It made him 
angry to think how the redcoats had killed 
almost all the live stock on the place, to pro¬ 
vide themselves with fresh meat. He was 

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also thinking how insolent the soldiers had 
been in dealing with his family. 

The more the young fellow thought about 
it, the more angry and the more helpless he 
felt. Still, it was some comfort to know that 
the surly and brutal Captain Heald had left 
that morning for another command. Lieu¬ 
tenant Mott, the next in rank, and a much 
better man, was left in charge. 

“ Shut up here like a rat in a hole! ” growled 
Paul. “ I wish I were with father. I wish 
something would happen, so that I could go 
back to the army. I had rather ride hard all 
day long and waylay the British at night than 
be cooped up here like a rat in a trap.” 

Well, something did happen to keep Paul’s 
mind busy the rest of the day. A servant 
came and said his mother wished to speak 
with him at once. He ran up the broad stairs 
and found his mother in the doorway of his 
room, with tears running down her cheeks. 

“ Come in; I have something to show you,” 
she whispered, as she closed and locked the 

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door. “ I found this on the table after 
Lieutenant Mott was through eating this 
morning.” 

Paul seized the letter from the trembling 
hand of his mother and read as follows: 

“ August 10, 1780. 

‘‘Lieutenant Mott: — Paul Russell has 
broken his parole. He cannot have either a 
hearing or a trial. Upon receipt of this you 
are ordered to hang this young rebel. Hang 
him before sunset to-night. Send me word 
to-morrow morning. 

“ Heald.” 

“ That is an awful lie! I haven’t broken 
my parole! It is murder if they hang me! ” 
Paul burst out, his face deadly pale, and then 
red with anger. 

“ Be calm, my boy. Listen to me. I think 
Lieutenant Mott dropped that letter to help 
you. He is not a bad man like Captain 
Heald.” 


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‘‘ Never you mind, mother dear, I shall not 
hang this time, you may be sure of that. 
Don’t give up. I will get out of this place 
somehow.” 

It was a long forenoon for the boy. He 
walked up and down the piazza and across the 
lawn, and went and chatted with the redcoats. 
But those awful words, “ Hang him before 
sunset to-night,” seemed to be written in big 
letters across the sky. The birds seemed to 
mock him with them, and even the guards 
appeared to mutter them as they marched 
to and fro with their guns over their shoul¬ 
ders. 

The boy could eat little dinner. It seemed 
as if the food would choke him. He almost 
broke down when he saw the haggard face of 
his mother. 

His mother was almost frantic. 

Oh, what will you do, Paul? I can’t let 
them hang you! ” 

Keep up your courage, mother. They will 
have to shoot me first. I shall not be hanged 

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and he kissed his mother and ran out on the 
lawn and sat down under a tree. 

“ This will never do! I must think of some¬ 
thing. They may come for me at any minute.” 

He walked slowly down the road toward a 
large grove, where a big, good-natured fellow 
by the name of Tom happened to be on guard. 

“ It’s a hot day,” he suggested, when he 
came near the sentinel, who was lazily tramp¬ 
ing along the dusty road. 

‘‘ To be sure! And I guess you would think 
so if you had to carry a gun along this road 
for three hours.” 

“ Why not rest a bit, Tom? Let me have 
your gun, and I will take your place.” 

“ No, my boy, that will never do. Still, I 
am much obliged to you just the same.” 

Tom tramped along the road, while Paul 
sat down to think. He watched the soldiers 
laughing and talking in their tents. One word 
of alarm, and they would be shooting at him. 

Just then a little half-starved pig came out 
of the woods. He was perhaps the last of the 

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drove. He looked at Paul for a moment with¬ 
out moving; but when he saw the sentry, he 
turned about, gave a frightened grunt, and 
darted up the road as if Colonel Tarleton 
himself were after him. 

“ Here, Paul! Help me catch that crazy 
pig! ” shouted Tom. “ Hurry, and we shall 
catch him.” 

Paul did not need to be asked twice. In 
another moment he and the sentry were after 
the little pig as fast as they could go. 

The redcoats were out of their tents in a 
moment, shouting and laughing as if it were 
the best fun in the world. 

Off came Paul’s hat and coat. For him it 
was a race for life, and he knew it. Once he 
nearly overtook the pig, but took care not to 
catch him. The frightened animal squealed 
and ran all the faster. 

Tom meanwhile had stopped. 

“ Hey, there, boy! ” he shouted. “ Come 
back! We can’t catch him.” 

Paul gave a quick glance behind him and 
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saw that he w^as out of range of the soldiers. 
The only danger now was from Tom's musket. 

“ Come back, Paul! Come back, or I will 
shoot! ” 

Paul did not stop. 

Bang! went the gun, but the bullet whistled 
over his head. 

Now if I can only reach the swamp, I am 
safe; ” and he ran faster than before. 

He soon reached the grove, and in a few 
minutes was safe in the swamp beyond. 

Before daylight the next morning he was 
telling his astonished father the story of his 
narrow escape. 

“ It was clever work, my dear boy; but 
don’t let the Tories get you again. I wonder 
if they caught our little pig.” 

“ I don’t know, father,” laughed Paul, “ but 
the little porker did double duty; he saved his 
own bacon, and he saved mine too.” 


66 


IX 

• FIGHTING THE BRtTISH WITH BEES 

O N the southern edge of North Carolina 
stands the little city of Charlotte. 
The people of this section were full of 
the love of liberty. In less than one month 
after the Battle of Lexington they began to 
talk in favor of declaring independence from 
England. Five years afterwards, when Lord 
Cornwallis, the commander-in-chief of the 
British during the Revolution, came to Char¬ 
lotte with his army, he found the people so 
eager to fight for their freedom, that he 
always called this little town the hornets’ 
nest of the rebellion. 

Early in the fall of 1780 these hornets were 
buzzing. The patriots had been defeated in 

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South Carolina, in the Battle of Camden. 
Lord Cornwallis now felt sure of success in 
North Carolina, and was marching toward the 
Old North State, with the intention of making 
his first stop at Charlotte. 

The British soldiers robbed the patriots 
of their sheep and cattle, burned their houses 
and their crops, stole their horses, and drove 
their women and children into the woods. 

“ I will protect your property and pay you 
for everything my army needs,’' declared 
Lord Cornwallis, “ but you must take the 
oath of allegiance to King George.” 

“ Never! ” was the determined answ» of 
the bold North Carolina patriots. We have 
pledged our lives, our fortunes, and our honor 
to the cause of freedom, and we will not break 
our oaths. We will fight you to the bitter 
end.” 

And fight they did, men, women, and 
children, and with a will. They made things 
so lively for the redcoats that they dreaded 
to be sent into the country for supplies. No 

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matter if a whole regiment went out, it was 
certain to lose some of its men before it got 
back to Charlotte. From behind trees, bushes, 
barns, and fences the deadly fire of the patriots 
thinned the ranks of the hated British. 

One morning, while Cornwallis and his army 
were at Charlotte, a boy named John Clarke 
was at work in a field on his father’s farm, 
about seven miles from town. The boy’s 
father and brother were in the patriot army. 
John was left at home to take care of his 
mother and sisters. 

He suddenly heard a great clatter down the 
road. He looked up and saw British soldiers 
coming into sight, round the bend in the road. 
He ran into the house with a shout. 

“ The redcoats are here. The whole army 
is coming up the road! ” 

In a few moments the British were riding 
up the lane. 

Now John Clarke’s mother had already had 
experience with British officers and knew what 
they were. She sent the girls upstairs and 

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seated herself on the piazza with John, to 
await the coming of the soldiers. 

The leader of the redcoats halted his men 
near the house, leaped from his horse, and 
came up to the piazza. 

“We are in need of supplies, and must 
search this place.” 

“ As you please,” replied Mrs. Clarke, 
quietly. “ You have already stolen everything, 
and you will find nothing.” 

The soldiers now began to search the house. 
Some went to the barn. Others ransacked 
the shed. They could not find much. 

“ I say, boy,” growled the British leader, 
returning to the piazza, “ we can’t find any¬ 
thing here; you must have hidden something 
somewhere.” 

“ Of course,” grinned John. “ We have 
one poor cow left; but you can’t get her, for 
she’s out in the woods, over a mile away.” 

The officer was angry. 

“ One cow isn’t much, but it’s better than 
nothing. Take one of the horses and drive 

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her in; and be quick about it, you young 
rebel! ” 

John leaped on one of the horses, which had 
been tied to the rail fence. Some of the men 
tried to stop him. 

“That’s all right!” shouted the British 
captain; “ he’s going on an errand for me.” 

Trotting his horse by a row of beehives, 
John leaned over and upset several of them. 
He then struck his horse a sharp blow with a 
switch and away went horse and rider out 
of the lane and into the road. They were 
soon lost to sight in the woods. 

The yard was now worse than a hornets’ 
nest. The angry bees swarmed out of the 
hives till the air seemed full of them. The 
horses, maddened by the sting of the bees, 
began to plunge and kick. With oaths the 
redcoats ran here and there to escape. It 
was of no use. The bees made it so hot for 
them that they went helter-skelter down the 
road. 

John had looked back as he rode out of the 
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lane. It was a sight that he never forgot. As 
soon as he was in the shelter of the woods he 
jumped off the horse and lay on the ground 
and laughed, while the British troopers went 
riding pellmell past him. 

The road was soon clear of the redcoats, and 
John went back to the house to tell his mother 
and sisters. 

“ It was a funny sight,” he said. “You 
never saw anything like it. Some of those 
chaps had their eyes shut tight. Some of 
their noses looked like powderhorns. And 
they swore like troopers. I think I had better 
write General Washington about it; it is 
better than powder and balls.” 


72 


X 

A TIMELY JACK - o’ - LANTERN 

T he first settlers in America made 
their homes along the sea, for the 
inland country was a trackless wilder¬ 
ness. From Maine to Georgia there was only 
a fringe of villages, scattered here and there 
along the coast. Shortly after the Revolution, 
however, great numbers of men and women 
began to go farther and farther west. Hun¬ 
dreds of thrifty settlers left their homes 
along the coast, crossed the mountains, and 
built new homes for themselves in the rich 
lands that are now the states of Ohio, Ken¬ 
tucky, and Tennessee. 

Among the early settlers who tramped 
across the mountains and through the wilder- 

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ness to find new homes on the frontier was 
the Merrill family. They built a log cabin 
for themselves on the banks of a little river 
in southern Ohio. In that cabin there was 
only one room. The two boys of the family, 
David and Joseph, slept in a kind of loft, on 
a bed of dry oak leaves. The loft was reached 
by a ladder. 

Their first winter was bitter cold. The snow 
lay deep and long upon the frozen ground; 
but there was plenty of dry, hard wood to 
bum in the huge stone fireplace. The oldest 
girl, Ruth, helped her mother. The boys set 
traps and snared rabbits, while their father 
shot wild turkeys and deer. There were no 
signs of Indians, and they were happy and 
contented, although living in the deep woods, 
many miles from their old home in Vir¬ 
ginia. 

At last the snow began to melt, the birds 
began to sing, and the trees put out their 
leaves. Soon it was time to plant. 

One day David climbed up into the loft 
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to get a package of pumpkin seed which he 
had brought with him from the old home. 

Not a seed was to be found. 

“ Oh dear! ” he muttered; some of those 
red squirrels have gnawed a hole through the 
roof and carried all those seeds away. No 
pumpkin pies this year! ” 

His father tried to comfort him. 

“ Never mind, David, my boy, perhaps 
neighbor Johnson across the river can spare 
you a few seeds. Mother may be able after 
all to bake a few pumpkin pies for us this 
winter.” 

A few days after this the two boys were at 
work in the clearing. They were burning 
some old stumps, when out of one of them 
popped a red squirrel and scampered away 
into the woods. 

“ Look, Dave! ” shouted Joseph; there 
goes a big, fat red squirrel. Let us find his 
nest; it must be in that stump.” 

‘‘ All right, Joe. Perhaps it’s the little 
rascal that stole my pumpkin seeds.” 

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The two boys began to dig round the 
stump. They found some old rags, bits of 
dry moss, and some empty shells of hickory 
nuts. 

“ Hurrah, Joe! this must be the very chap 
that stole the seeds. We may find some the 
little thief hasn’t eaten yet.” 

The boys continued their search. At last 
amid the empty shells they found three good 
pumpkin seeds. 

“ Of course it’s better than nothing,” said 
Joe, glumly; “ but I must say, Dave, you 
have a pretty poor chance of raising much 
of a crop.” 

David was a thrifty lad. He saved the 
three seeds and planted them in deep, rich 
soil. 

How like magic those pumpkin vines grew 
that hot, wet summer! All the crops did well 
that year, but such huge yellow pumpkins 
have seldom been seen. 

“ Dave,” his sister Ruth pleaded, one day 
late in the autumn, “ please make me a 

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jack-o’-lantern out of one of your pump¬ 
kins.” 

‘‘ Dear me, no, Ruth; I can’t spare one.” 

But David liked to please his sister, and one 
rainy day he made a jack-o’-lantern out of 
his largest pumpkin. It looked like a giant, 
with eyes, nose, mouth, and teeth red with 
fire. 

The next evening a man came riding along 
the trail by the Merrill cabin. 

“ Indians! Indians! The redskins are 
coming! ” he shouted, as he rode swiftly by 
in the darkness. 

Mr. Merrill had gone on an errand to the 
village, some ten miles away. Only Mrs. 
MerriU and her children were at home; but 
she was a woman of courage. 

“ Bar the door, and cover up the fire, 
children; get your rifle ready, Dave; the 
Indians may pass by if they see no light here.” 

Dave stood ready with his rifle. The 
youngest girl, Lizzie, climbed up into the loft. 
Ruth and her mother stood ready with the 

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powderhorn and the bullet-pouch to help 
David. 

“ Take the axe and stand at the window; 
look sharp for an Indian head,” David whis¬ 
pered to his brother. 

Thej^ had not long to w^ait. 

“ There they are; I can see three of them 
crawling up the bank,” whispered Joe. 

It now occurred to David that he might 
make use of the jack-o’-lantern. 

“ We cannot be any the worse off,” he 
thought; “ ni try it anyway.” 

In another moment he had lighted a candle, 
put it in the jack-o’-lantern, and covered the 
lantern with his coat. He carried it to the 
window and uncovered it just as the Indians 
came to the cabin door. 

The redskins had probably never seen any¬ 
thing of the kind before. Perhaps they 
thought some evil spirit was after them. 
They gave a yell and ran off into the woods. 

The boy thought the savages might get 
over their scare and come back, and he kept 

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the lantern at the window until his father 
returned. 

Mr. Merrill patted David on the back. 

Your pumpkin did us a good turn this 
time, my boy, and I am proud of having such 
a son to look after mother and the children. 
The pumpkin pies will taste all the better too. 
You boys may go to bed now. I will watch 
for the Indians.’’ 

Perhaps the three Indians did not intend to 
do any harm. At any rate they did not come 
back again. 


79 


XI 

MERCY TYLER TRAPS A PANTHER 

T he early settlers in the old Granite 
State of New Hampshire were beset 
with many hardships and dangers. 
About the year 1790 a sturdy pioneer by the 
name of Jacob Tyler, with wife and two chil¬ 
dren, tramped from Salisbury, Massachusetts, 
through the trackless forests and built a cabin 
on the cast bank of the Merrimac River. At 
this time his daughter Mercy was fifteen, 
while Parley, his son, was only six years old. 

Although far from friends and neighbors, 
these good people were living a simple, con¬ 
tented life. Of course at times they were 
lonely and longed to return to the old Bay 
State. But it was said that other families 

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were coming to make their homes in the same 
region. The hope of this made them happy, 
and they had much else to be thankful for. 
They had plenty of good food, for the crops 
had done well that year. And the children 
had not been sick a single day since they had 
left their old home. 

It was the third spring since the Tylers 
had left Massachusetts. Mr. Tyler had gone 
early one morning to his nearest neighbor, 
ten miles away, to borrow an axe, having 
broken his own a few days before. Mrs. 
Tyler was getting ready to do the washing, 
and Mercy was helping her. Parley was out 
playing in the clearing in front of the house. 
He had found a pair of old leather reins in the 
shed and tied them to the front door of the 
log cabin. With a birch stick for a whip he 
was driving as if he had a real horse before 
him. 

“ Mercy, dear, go up to the loft for mother 
and bring down the soiled clothes lying on the 
floor,” said Mrs. Tyler. 

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“Yes, maimna,” and Mercy climbed up the 
ladder. 

Suddenly a sharp cry came from the cabin 
loft. 

“ Oh, Parley, come in quick! Hurry, Par¬ 
ley! Oh, mother, quick! quick! look out, 
quick! ” 

It was Mercy’s voice, but it sounded as if it 
were that of some older person. 

Parley was standing on the step outside the 
cabin door, gazing with smiling eyes and lips 
at a strange creature creeping through a patch 
of dead grass. 

One look was enough for the mother. In a 
moment she knew the long, crouching form, 
with cat-like head, with its gleaming eyes 
fixed on the child. It was the panther, or 
catamount, the most dreaded animal in all 
pioneer life. 

The little fellow turned to listen to his 
sister’s call, while the crouching panther 
glided forward. 

The poor mother gasped for breath. She 
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dashed out of the back door and flew round the 
corner of the cabin, ready to fight the terrible 
creature with her bare hands; but when she 
reached the front of the cabin, she saw the 
animal struggling on the doorstep. It was 
crying as if in fear or in pain. Its big head was 
out of sight. The stout oak door had been 
shut with a slam on the panther’s neck and 
held it tight. 

‘‘Mother, come quick! help! quick!” 
screamed Mercy; “ I have his head squeezed 
in the door. Quick! I cannot hold on 
long! ” 

The brave little girl had climbed down the 
ladder from the loft, and in the nick of time 
had slammed the big door to, just as the ani¬ 
mal was creeping over the threshold. 

“ Hold on tight, dear; mother will help you; 
don’t be afraid! Hold on for your life! ” 

Meanwhile, the angry panther acted as if 
he were caught in a trap. He growled and 
snarled, and tried to get free. If the angry 
beast had forced his body inside the cabin, he 

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would have succeeded, but he only tried to 
pull himself out, and was held all the tighter. 

What w^as to be done? The snarling animal 
was likely to get loose at any moment. 

Mrs. Tyler seized the leather reins with 
which the boy had been playing, and held 
them tight. 

“ Now, Mercy, listen and do just as I bid 
you! Tell Parley to get papa’s gun up in the 
loft; be careful, for it is loaded. Then crawl 
out of the back window and bring the gun 
to me. Hurry! ” 

The angry creature was twisting his body 
to and fro and growling fearfully. It looked 
as if he would get away at any moment. It 
seemed a long time before Mercy came 
running round the corner of the cabin with 
the loaded musket. 

“ Give me the gun, Mercy. Hold these 
reins tight, while I shoot him.” 

The trembling girl seized the reins, while the 
mother walked calmly toward the furious 
beast. She held the muzzle of the gun just 

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behind the animahs front legs and fired. The 
catamount made 'one leap, pulling the reins 
from Mercy’s weary hands, and fell dead on 
the cabin floor. 

The brave pioneer woman dropped the gun 
and began to cry. 

“ Why, mother! the panther can’t hurt you; 
it’s dead.” 

‘‘ Mother knows that, dear; I am only 
weak for the moment. How thankful I am 
for such a brave little daughter! How proud 
your father will be! ” 


85 


XII 


BESSIE Brandon’s unexpected guest 


B essie BRANDON was a pretty girl 
of fourteen. She lived with her 
father and mother on a plantation in 
South Carolina. It was a bright May morning 
in 1791, and the birds were singing in the big 
oak under which she sat. But the young girl 
was sad and almost ready to cry. 

At this time the Revolution was at an end, 
after eight years of fighting. The thirteen 
colonies were now the United States of 
America, and General George Washington was 
the first President. 

Now this great and good man, whom all the 
people admired and loved, made up his mind 
to travel through the South. He wanted to 

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see and to talk with the men and women who 
had borne so many hardships during the war. 
He longed to greet the many brave officers 
and soldiers who had fought so well and so 
bravely under Marion, Sumter, and Greene. 

The people of the South were much pleased 
to have this great man with them. Every¬ 
where they came in crowds to greet and honor 
their beloved President. In some towns 
arches of flowers spanned the road. In other 
places young girls scattered flowers and 
wreaths of roses before him as he rode along 
the street. 

The morning on which our story opens was 
the very day that President Washington and 
his party were expected to ride through the 
town of Chester, about six miles from Bessie 
Brandon’s home. All the family except Bessie 
had gone early; she was left behind to look 
after the house. 

Washington and his party rode in a large 
cream-colored coach, drawn by four white 
horses. By the side of the coach milk-white 

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saddle-horses were led along, to be used when 
the President was tired of riding in the car¬ 
riage. Then there w^ere men on horseback, 
who rode as an escort, besides a number of 
servants dressed in white suits with yellow 
trimmings. Behind the coach came the 
baggage-wagon, drawn by two horses, and 
followed by an escort on horseback. 

“ What a splendid time they’ll have at 
Chester,” thought Bessie, sadly; and brother 
Obed is to make an address of welcome. Too 
bad! too bad! ” and this time she gave a sob 
as she thought of the gay scene, and herself 
at home all alone. 

How quiet it was! and it was only nine 
o’clock, with the long summer day still before 
her. 

Suddenly Bessie heard the sound of gal¬ 
loping horses. It could not be the redcoats, 
for they had gone away long ago. A party 
came galloping down the road. In another 
moment a great coach drawn by four horses 
stopped at the gate. Servants in yellow and 

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gold opened the door of the carriage, and out 
stepped a tall, fine-looking gentleman. 

Bessie had dried her tears and now stood on 
the piazza, looking with wonder at the tall, 
richly dressed stranger, who walked slowly 
toward the house and paused before the steps. 

“ Good morning, little miss. Can you not 
give me some breakfast? I have had a long 
ride since sunrise, and I am very hungry.” 

Now, while Bessie was astonished at this 
request from a stranger, she was well-bred. 
She made a deep curtsy, as any well-bred 
girl of that time would do. 

Father and mother have gone to Chester, 
sir, to see General Washington, and I am left 
to tend the house. I hardly know what to 
say.” 

“ Pray tell me your name, little miss.” 
Bessie Brandon, sir.” 

And how old are you, Bessie? ” 

I shall be fourteen next August, please.” 

‘‘Well, Bessie,” continued the stranger, 
taking a seat on the broad piazza, “ never 

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mind if you are alone. If you will get me some 
breakfast, I promise that you shall see General 
Washington before any of your family do.” 

Very well, sir; ” and her bright eyes began 
to shine; “ I will do the best I can for you, 
but our food is plain.” 

Bessie was an excellent housekeeper. Her 
mother had taught her how to cook and to 
wait on the table. In a few moments the 
young girl had spread the table with snow- 
white linen and got out her mother’s best 
china and silver. She prepared bacon and 
eggs, and made coffee; and then with nimble 
feet ran to the spring for milk and butter. In 
a few minutes a meal good enough for the 
best man in the land was neatly spread on the 
table in the cool sitting room. 

“ Come, sir, your breakfast is ready,” 
curtsied Bessie. 

Ah, my little maid, you have done well. 
Do you please sit down with me, and I shall 
enjoy this good breakfast with you.” 

The stately gentleman served his young 
90 



“DO YOU PLEASE SIT DOWN WITH ME, AND I SHALL 
ENJOY THIS GOOD BREAKFAST WITH YOU.” 

Page 90. 









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hostess, and then ate with relish the plain 
but dainty breakfast. 

The guest was extremely dignified and sober, 
so dignified and so sober that I suppose Bessie 
was not sorry when the meal was over. 

When he had finished his breakfast and was 
ready to go on his journey, he bent gently 
down and kissed his little hostess. 

“ Bessie, my dear, you may tell your father 
and mother that you not only saw General 
Washington before anybody else did in the 
city, but that you ate breakfast with him, and 
that he kissed you.” 

Bessie Brandon lived to be an old lady. 
She often told of the day when she had the 
honor of preparing breakfast for President 
Washington and of eating it with him. 


91 


XIII 

DAVID MILLER KILLS A' RATTLESNAKE 

T he pioneers of Indiana had to fight 
many kinds of foes, seen and unseen. 
The wolves killed their sheep, the 
foxes and lynx ate their lambs and pigs, and 
the raccoons and squirrels fed on their corn. 
Even the turtles in the ponds caught the 
ducks and the young geese. And then there 
were the savages, chills and fever, vermin, and 
poisonous snakes. 

Perhaps the most dreaded foes of all were 
the deadly rattlesnakes and copperheads. In 
some parts of the state they were so thick 
that it was hardly safe to walk about. Not 
only were men, women, and children bitten, 
but cows, horses, and dogs met death in the 
same horrible way. 


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The rattlesnake gives a warning before 
striking, but the copperhead strikes as quick 
as lightning, and death soon follows. 

A mother would be busy about her house¬ 
work. One of her children would be playing 
out near the corn-crib, or the baby would be 
crawling across the cabin floor. Suddenly 
there was a scream. The mother ran to the 
help of her little one, but she was too late. 

Many years ago a settler named Isaac 
Miller and his good wife Betsy owned a large 
farm on Raccoon Creek, not far from what is 
now the city of Terre Haute. They had three 
children. David was ten years old, Bessie six, 
and Sally five. 

One morning in early summer Mr. Miller 
and his wife were going to town, to sell butter 
and eggs. The three children were to be left 
at home. 

Now, my boy,” said Mrs. Miller, calling 
David to her, “ stay in the cabin and donT go 
out into the woods. Take good care of Bessie 
and Sally. Rattlers are thick, and they are 

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Ugly this warm weather. You know how your 
poor brother Isaac died from a rattler’s bite 
only last August. We shall be at home before 
evening.” 

“ Never mind, mother; I will watch the 
girls and keep them from getting hurt. I 
will stay close to the cabin.” 

The father and mother soon rode away. 
The children played together for a time, but 
it was a hot day, and the woods behind the 
cabin looked shady and cool. At the back 
of the cabin, under a shed, was a large bin 
for storing grain. 

• ‘‘I will let the girls play in the bin for a 
while,” thought David, “ while I go out and 
see if the squirrels are eating the corn.” 

So into the big bin climbed the two little 
girls and began to play. 

“ Come back quick, Dave,” called Bessie; 
“ we want you to play with us out in the 
woods.” 

David walked slowly toward the cornfield, 
through the shady woods. 

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Suddenly in the quiet of the morning he 
heard the children screaming at the top of 
their voices. 

‘‘ Oh, Dave! Oh, mother, mother! Come 
quick! A snake, a snake! ” 

Poor David’s heart seemed to jump out of 
his mouth. He ran quickly to the bin; and 
it was well he did; the sight almost froze the 
blood in his body. Bessie was sitting at one 
corner, while Sally was kneeling in the oppo¬ 
site corner. They were shaking with terror. 
A big rattlesnake was coiled up in the 
middle of the floor. His eyes had a wicked 
gleam, and he was ready to strike. 

David was brave-hearted, and did not give 
way to fear for a moment. 

“ Don’t move for your lives, children! I 
will kill that rattler. Don’t cry, I will be back 
in a minute.” 

He knew that his mother had left on the 
crane in the fireplace a huge pot of hominy, 
boiling in lye. 

“ Pour in more water, David, as fast as it 
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boils away/^ were his mother’s last words that 
morning, when she was leaving the house. 

David rushed into the cabin. He seized a 
half-gallon gourd which lay on the hearth, 
dipped it full of boiling hominy and lye, and 
hurried back to the bin. 

The angry snake turned toward him as if to 
strike. 

David kept cool. He leaned over the side 
of the bin and with a steady hand dashed the 
fiery stuff on the big snake. 

“ Come here quick, children! ” 

In another moment he had dragged his 
sisters out of the bin. 

The ugly snake writhed in agony. It tried 
to wriggle its way back through the hole in 
the floor, where it had crawled in, but it was 
too badly scalded to escape, and soon died. 

Late in the afternoon the father and 
mother came home. 

“ You did wrong to leave your sisters and 
go out into the woods,” said his mother; 

but you were a brave boy to kill that hor- 
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rid snake with the hot hominy. Some boys 
would never have thought of it.” 

Yes, you saved the lives of your dear 
little sisters, my boy,” added his father, 
and I am proud of you.” 


97 


XIV 

LITTLE JARVIS, THE MIDSHIPMAN 

M ore than a hundred years ago the 
British warships used to seize and 
search American vessels and carry 
off American sailors. The officers said they 
were deserters from the British navy. War 
between the United States and Great Britain 
seemed likely to break out at any moment. 

To put an end to these and many other 
troubles, John Jay, one of the great statesmen 
of that time, was sent on a special mission to 
England. Mr. Jay succeeded in making 
a treaty; but this treaty made many of our 
people angry, especially those who wanted the 
United States to quarrel with Great Britain 
and take sides with France. The French were 

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angry at us for making the treaty, and or¬ 
dered our minister to leave France. The 
French cruisers then began to seize American 
merchant vessels. 

General Washington, who had twice been 
elected President, now declined to serve a 
third term. John Adams, who was chosen to 
succeed him, sent statesmen to France to try 
to keep peace. Agents of the French govern¬ 
ment told them that the matter would be 
made right if they bribed several members of 
the French government. 

When this base and insulting offer became 
known at home, there was an outburst of 
anger from one end of the United States to the 
other. Everywhere the war fever grew hotter 
and hotter. 

Such a feeling for war had not been known 
since the Battle of Lexington. Patriotic 
songs were written and sung. One of these 
songs, named “ Hail, Columbia,’’ written by 
Joseph Hopkinson, still lives as a national 
air. 

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“ Millions for defense, not one cent for 
tribute! ” became the popular war cry. 

Men worked without pay in building forts 
along the seacoast. The women made flags 
and banners. An army was raised, and Wash¬ 
ington was chosen to command it. Congress 
voted to furnish three frigates, the United 
States, the Constitution, and the Constella¬ 
tion. 

In February, 1799, the Constellation, com¬ 
manded by the gallant Thomas Truxton, 
captured the great French frigate LTnsur- 
gente. This victory caused great rejoicing 
in the United States and in England. 

The newspapers were full of praise for 
Captain Truxton, and a ballad called “ Trux- 
ton’s Victory ” was sung everywhere. The 
London merchants sent him a service of silver 
plate costing three thousand dollars. 

Among the under officers of Captain Trux¬ 
ton was a midshipman named James Jarvis, 
but thirteen years old. He was so small that 
he was nicknamed Little Jarvis. Like most 

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boys of his age, he was full of pranks. Indeed, 
if the officer of the deck happened to be out of 
sight for a few minutes, Little Jarvis would 
be turning a somersault or standing on his 
head. This of course was not allowed on the 
quarter-deck of a warship. 

“Up the masthead, sir! the quarter-deck 
is no place for a circus. Mind you that, 
young man! ” the officer of the deck would 
roar. 

With a book in his pocket, the little mid¬ 
shipman climbed to the crosstrees. Although 
often punished in this way, he was liked by 
everybody, from the bluff Captain Truxton 
to the common sailors, for he was a manly 
fellow and never did a mean thing. 

“ If you please, sir,” he said one day, when 
he came down from the crosstrees and saluted 
the officer of the deck, “ there’s a sail off the 
port quarter. I called out once before, but 
nobody heard me. I think, sir, it is a frigate.” 

“ Sail, ho! ” called the lookout on the 
quarter. 


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It proved to be a frigate, and a French 
frigate too, La Vengeance, one of the great 
54-gun ships of the French navy. 

When the French frigate got a good look 
at the American warship, she tried to escape. 
The Constellation had to crowd on sail to 
overhaul her. It took nearly an hour for her 
to get within fighting distance. 

Captain Truxton called his men round him 
and made a short speech before they went to 
their places. Little Jarvis had never been 
in an engagement. He knew well enough that 
he belonged in the maintop, but he was so full 
of fight that he wanted to be on deck and have 
a chance to show what he could do. But he 
was ordered aloft with several steady old 
topmen, who were told to keep an eye on 
him. 

It was at midnight, and a lovely moon¬ 
light night, when the ships neared each other 
and began a sharp fight. The smoke soon 
got so thick that nothing could be seen from 
the crosstrees but the flash of the guns. The 

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young lad could hear the hoarse orders of the 
officers, the cheers of the gunners, and the 
cries of the wounded, mingled with the thunder 
of the big guns. 

Little Jarvis could not do any real fight¬ 
ing, but he waved his sword and cheered as 
loudly as anybody. 

Hurrah! Give it to them, men! Let 
them have it! ” he shouted again and again, 
but his voice was lost in the roar of battle. 

For three hours the battle went on. The 
French frigate fought bravely, but could not 
stand against the skill of the American gun¬ 
ners. The gallant ship now rolled a helpless 
wreck. At the last moment of the battle a 
double shot came crashing through the rigging 
of the Constellation and struck the main¬ 
mast. 

“ Mr. Jarvis,” shouted the captain of the 
maintopmen, “ the mainmast is a-going! ” 

‘‘ Can we hold on a minute longer? ” asked 
Jarvis. 

The mast was already swaying. 

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“No, Mr. Jarvis; we can’t stay a moment 
longer; it is death for us all.” 

“Yes, but I am an officer,” was the firm 
reply; “ I cannot leave my post. An officer 
must die at his post. If the mast goes, I 
must go with it.” 

In vain the sailors shouted and swore at the 
boy. He would not move an inch. The top- 
men, without waiting for orders, began to go 
down,catching at the rigging as best they could. 

Calmly and quietly, with a strange light in 
his face, the little midshipman remained at 
his post. The next moment the mast came 
down with a crash that shook every timber 
in the stanch frigate, and with it came the 
boy. He was picked up quite dead. 

The captain of the topmen approached 
Captain Truxton and saluted. 

“ He might have saved himself, sir, but he 
would not do it. He said he was an officer 
and could not leave his post.” 

The next morning, wrapped in the American 
flag, Jarvis’s body lay on the quarter-deck. 

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The officers and men stood with uncovered 
heads and heard the burial-service read. Two 
of the sailors made ready to unloose the flag 
and slide the body over the rail. 

‘‘ No/’ came the command of Captain 
Truxton; “ make the flag fast. Mr. Jarvis has 
well defended that flag. He shall be buried 
in it.” 

The next moment the body of the young 
midshipman sank quietly into the depths of 
the ocean. 

“ Gentlemen/’ said Captain Truxton, with 
husky voice, “ Little Jarvis has indeed gone 
aloft.” 

The story of this splendid fight was soon 
told at home. Congress thanked the officers 
and men of the Constellation, and gave 
Captain Truxton a gold medal. It also passed 
a resolution in honor of Little Jarvis, saying, 
“ The conduct of James Jarvis, a midshipman 
on said frigate, who gloriously preferred certain 
death to leaving his post, is deserving of the 
highest praise.” 


105 


XV 


HELEN Patterson’s escape 


D aniel BOONE, the famous pioneer 
and first settler of Kentucky, made 
up his mind to leave his home and go 
to Missouri. He had lost all his land in Ken¬ 
tucky, and now in his old age he wished to 
begin life again in the silence of the wild 
region west of the Mississippi River. 

“ Why are you going into the woods again, 
Dan? ” asked his wife. 

“It is getting too thick around here for 
me; I want more elbow room. I must get 
back into the wilderness, where I can once 
more hunt the buffalo and the deer.” 

So it came about in the year 1797 that the 
old hunter and Indian fighter took his family 

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and went over into the deep woods of Missouri. 
He built his cabin on the Missouri River, in 
the district of St. Charles, about forty miles 
west of the then little town of St. Louis. 
Missouri was at this time a wild country and 
full of bands of prowling savages. These In¬ 
dians liked nothing better than to plunder 
and burn the log cabins of the settlers and 
steal their cattle and horses. 

A few years after Daniel Boone had moved 
to his new home, another pioneer, a Mr. 
Patterson, also moved from Kentucky and 
settled only a few miles from the home of the 
old hunter. 

At this time Mr. Patterson had a daughter 
named Helen, about eighteen years of age. 

One day in June all the Patterson family 
except Helen were away from home. The 
girl sat by the open door, busily spinning. All 
of a sudden the lonely cabin was surrounded 
by a band of Indians. Helen knew well 
enough that it would be useless to cry for 
help, or try to escape. One of the redskins, 

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who could talk a little English, told her that 
if she made an outcry they would kill her. 

The Indians ransacked the cabin and made 
ready to take away such things as they could 
easily carry. In a few minutes the whole 
band, with Helen as their captive, set off 
afoot to the north through the forest. 

“ Oh! ” cried the girl; “ what will father 
and mother think, when they come back and 
find that I have been carried away? ” 

She had with her a ball of white yarn. As 
they went through the forest, she occasionally 
broke off bits of yarn and dropped them along 
the way. She knew that her father and 
friends would follow in pursuit, and that the 
yarn would serve as a guide. A savage caught 
the girl at it, and raised his tomahawk as if to 
kill her. The ball of yarn was taken from her, 
and she was closely watched, for fear she 
would try again to mark the trail. 

During the afternoon the Indians became 
uneasy. It was plain to Helen that her 
friends were in pursuit and that the savages 

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knew it. About sunset two of the Indians 
went back to find out the real state of affairs. 
The rest of the band had a long and exciting 
talk until their comrades returned. 

It was now dark. The night was cloudy, 
and the rumbling of distant thunder gave 
warning of a storm. The savages crossed the 
creek they had been following, and led the 
girl into the deep woods, about a mile from 
the ford. They then tied her wrists together, 
pulled her arms above her head, and fastened 
them with strips of deerskin to a branch of a 
tree. 

“ Indians now go ford, and hide, and kill 
white man,” muttered the Indian, who could 
speak a little broken English. 

Helen was now alone in the woods, and tied 
so tight that she could not hope to escape. 
Her fingers and wrists began to swell, and she 
was almost wild with pain and fear. She tried 
with all her strength to get free, but it was of 
no use. She knew that the savages might 
come back at any moment and kill her, and 

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she prayed to God to send somebody to set 
her free. 

The lightning lit up the dark woods, and the 
peals of thunder came louder and louder. 
Down came the rain in torrents and drenched 
the captive girl. Once more she tried to 
escape, and this time her hands slipped easily 
through the rain-soaked thongs of deerskin. 
It took but a moment to untie her feet. Then, 
fleet as a deer, she ran toward the ford. 

“ If I can only get there in time to warn my 
father and my brothers! ” 

At last, tired out, she sat under a tree in the 
pouring rain and eagerly strained her eyes to 
catch a glimpse of her rescuers. In a short 
time she caught sight of some persons moving 
through the forest. 

Who could it be? Might it not be some of 
the savages coming back for her? Could it 
indeed be her father and her brothers? 

Father! father! ” she cried in a low voice. 

Helen, dear girl, is that you? ” came the 
reply. 


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In another moment she was held in the arms 
of her father, and her two brothers and the 
two sturdy sons of Daniel Boone were praising 
her for her courage. 

They now made their way home in safety 
over a new trail. Helen’s mother, nearly 
frantic at the loss of her daughter, was over¬ 
come with joy at her return. 


Ill 


XVI 

A LAST BLOW FOR SPAIN 

I T was a bright July morning, nearly one 
hundred years ago. A boy of sixteen, 
dressed in the uniform of a captain of the 
Spanish army, stood at the outer gate of an 
old crumbling fort at Baton Rouge, in what 
is now the state of Louisiana. With red 
cheeks and flashing eyes the boy was listening 
to Sera, an old sergeant. 

“ Captain Louis,” continued the old soldier. 
“ Well, Sergeant Sera.” 

“ There is sad news from above; the Ameri¬ 
cans are marching rapidly on our village. 
They swear they will drive us out.” 

“ Let the Americans do their work,” proudly 
answered Louis Grandpre; “ we must do our 
duty. Who leads these Americans? ” 

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Captain Thomas leads the riflemen. Pas- 
son, whose life your father once saved, leads 
the dragoons. It is said there are one hundred 
and forty of them in all. Pray, Captain 
Louis, what can we do? ” 

Do? ” cried the young captain. ‘‘We 
can hold the fort for Spain and for King Fer¬ 
dinand. It is what we are here for. A soldier 
of Spain must do his duty; if it comes to the 
worst, he must die.” 

The old sergeant shuffled off to his quarters, 
talking to himself. He had watched over his 
young master from the time he was a child. 
He rejoiced at the boy^s pluck and courage. 
Yet the old veteran knew too well it was all 
in vain. 

There was trouble and unrest all through 
this section of Louisiana, which was not yet 
free from the power of Spain. The vast 
region beyond the Mississippi, known as 
Louisiana, had been taken by France a hun¬ 
dred years before the close of the American 
Revolution. Eighty years later France had 

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ceded it to Spain, at the time she gave up 
Canada and the Ohio valley to England. In 
1800 the great Napoleon forced Spain to give 
it back to France. Thus the mouth of the 
great Mississippi River was closed to American 
trade. 

The people of the West had now no outlet 
for their goods. They said they would march 
down the river and take New Orleans by 
force. 

At this time Napoleon had great need of 
money, and sold us this whole territory for 
fifteen million dollars. It was a great bargain 
for our nation. This region contained more 
square miles than all the original thirteen 
colonies combined. 

I Of course Spain made loud objection to the 
trade. But she knew well enough that she 
could not hold this vast region against the 
wishes of our great republic. And France be¬ 
lieved that this bargain must end forever 
Spanish rule on the American continent. 

At the time of our story, only a strip of 
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country not much larger than the little state 
of Delaware was left in the hands of Spain. 
The American pioneers were bound to have 
this too. The only thing in the way was an 
old tumble-down fort at Baton Rouge, from 
which still floated the proud flag of Spain. 

Louis Grandpre was now in command of 
this fort. He was no common boy. He had 
been born and reared amid all the dangers and 
hardships of frontier life. His father, a brave 
Spanish soldier, had taught him that to obey 
was the first duty of a soldier. On his death¬ 
bed his parting words were, Loyalty to 
king, to country, and to flag.” 

What could the young Spaniard do? He 
had only a few crippled, worn-out veterans; 
and the fort had not been repaired for a dozen 
years. 

He rode into the square of the little town of 
Baton Rouge and stood beneath the folds of 
the Spanish banner. 

‘‘ Long live King Ferdinand! Rally to the 
help of the King's fort! I am here to defend it 

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against all enemies of the King. If you are 
true and loyal sons of Spain, follow me.” 

He rode back with the banner floating over 
his head, and the fife and drum playing a 
martial air. 

Within the gates of the fort he drew up his 
sorry-looking army of less than one hundred 
men. In a few earnest words he bade them 
stand firm for the King. 

I am only a boy,” he added, but I will 
face my duty proudly and remain steadfast 
to the end. Here will I make one last stand 
for the honor of Spain. Here I will fight one 
last battle for the glory of my country and my 
flag.” 

So it came about that on this hot July day 
a hundred poor, old, worn-out Spanish vet¬ 
erans stood drawn up in battle array within 
the old fort. Some of them even began to 
boast of what they would do again. 

They had not long to wait. There was a 
clatter of hoofs through the deserted village, 
and the call of the bugle, demanding a parley. 

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Old Sergeant Sera, stiff in his joints and 
lame from many wounds, swung open the big 
gate. 

Passon, with his mounted riflemen, dashed 
through and toppled over the old sergeant. 

Young Captain Grandpre, sword in hand, 
faced the dragoon. 

“ Sir, what means this insult, this hostile 
entrance into a fort of the King of Spain? ” 
Well, well! ” laughed Passon, as he reined 
in his horse; are you the captain here? 
Well, my boy, we want your fort; and we 
must have it.” 

“ This post of Baton Rouge belongs to 
His Majesty, King Ferdinand of Spain,” was 
the proud reply. I am in command. I am 
here to defend it with my life. Leave this 
fort at once, or I shall order my men to fire 
upon you.” 

‘‘ Well, what a fine young chap we have 
here,” cried Passon, while his men shouted 
with laughter. “ Indeed, you are a fierce 
young hotspur. We have taken a fancy to 

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this fort of yours, and we mean to have 
it.” 

Upon this the bold captain of the dragoons 
reached down from his horse as if to seize 
young Louis as a prisoner. 

Ho, there! ” shouted Captain Louis to his 
men. Drive these traitors out! Ready! 
Fire! ” 

With drawn sword the young captain 
turned toward his veterans to urge them to 
fight. 

Not a man was there. Such was their 
dread of the Americans that they had made 
haste to escape into the blockhouse. 

“ Cowards! cowards! all of you. Will you 
run from a lot of Yankee traitors? Come out 
and fight! ” and his young face was crimson 
with shame. 

“ Come, my boy,” the dragoon urged, “ I 
don’t want to hurt you, but we must have this 
fort.” 

“ Never! It is my duty to hold this fort, 
and hold it I will.” 


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“We are wasting time,” grumbled Passon, 
in anger. “ Charge, boys! Charge the block¬ 
house! ” 

Before the horsemen could reach the old 
tumble-down building, the young Spaniard 
had sprung to the gate and closed and barred 
it. In another moment he was rallying his 
men. 

“ Follow me and drive these traitors out! ” 

Sword in hand, young Grandpre went forth 
to meet the foe. But he went alone. 

At that moment Captain Thomas, with 
eighty riflemen, dashed through the southern 
gate of the fort. The dragoons jumped from 
their horses. They pounded away at the 
rickety gate of the blockhouse. Down it fell 
with a crash, and the Americans rushed 
in. 

Bracing himself against the wall, with 
sword flashing in the sunlight. Captain 
Louis Grandpre stood facing his foe, one 
against a hundred, and he a boy. 

“ Back, every one of you! Back, on your 
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lives! Ho! there in the blockhouse! Fire on 
the traitors! ” 

Clear and loud rang out the fire of the 
riflemen. With wild clatter, the dragoons 
charged up to the door. There, fighting for 
the fort which he deemed it his duty to de¬ 
fend, Grandpre fell, his king’s name on his 
lips, “ Long live King Ferdinand! ” 

Thus died Captain Louis Grandpr^. Brave 
and faithful to his trust, the boy-soldier 
struck the last blow for Spain in the land 
where she had won and lost an empire. 


120 


XVII 

THE CHARGE OF THE HOUNDS 

D uring our second war with Great 
Britain, the War of 1812, the pioneers 
in the Southwest suffered much from 
the red men. The British supplied the Creek 
Indians with guns, and paid them in gold for 
scalps. 

Alabama endured all the horrors of frontier 
life. In August, 1813, the famous Creek 
chief Red Eagle, with a thousand warriors, 
attacked Fort Mimms, the largest and strong¬ 
est fort of this region. It was one of the most 
desperate battles known in Indian warfare. 
The fort was burned to the ground, and about 
five hundred men, women, and children were 
killed. 


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This was indeed sad news to the settlers in 
the region round the Alabama and Tombigbee 
rivers. It meant that the “ redsticks,” as 
the Creek warriors were called, were on the 
warpath. If the settlers would save them¬ 
selves and their wives and children from a 
cruel death by the savages, they must get 
what food they could, leave their property to 
be carried away or destroyed, and seek 
shelter in the nearest stockade. 

Such was the terror caused by the terrible 
fight at Fort Mimms that the settlers in what 
is now Clarke County took their families as 
quickly as they could to a little fort called 
Burnt Corn. 

A little way from the fort lived two families 
consisting of twenty people. They did not 
believe there were any Creeks near, and de¬ 
cided to stay in their homes. That very 
night the redskins set fire to the cabins, and 
killed all but five of the inmates. These es¬ 
caped to the stockade and told the sad news. 

The next day the settlers went out from the 
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fort to bring the bodies of their friends and 
bury them. They believed the Indians had 
left the region. So sure were they of this that 
they did not take their guns with them, and 
even left the gate of the stockade open. 

A large party of Indians was watching 
them all the time. Crawling like snakes 
through the underbrush, they came within a 
hundred yards of the stockade, while the 
settlers stood weeping round the graves of 
their friends. 

Suddenly a savage war cry rent the air. 
The crafty chief Francis at the head of his 
warriors made a rush for the open gate of the 
fort. 

The pioneers ran with all speed. They 
reached the stockade and shut the gate just 
in time. But to their horror their women and 
children were shut outside, and the Indians 
were between them and the fort. 

It was a moment of terror. 

Now at the fort there was a young fbllow 
named Isaac Haden. Young as he was, he 

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was cool and fearless, and already well known 
as an Indian fighter. On this particular day 
he had been out in search of stray cattle, and 
just as things were at their worst he rode up 
with his pack of hounds at his heels. Quick as 
a flash he saw the peril of his friends. He 
knew that he must help them at any risk. 

“ Here, Tiger! Here, Nero! Here, Caesar! ” 
he cried to his oldest dogs. 

In another moment, followed by the whole 
pack of savage animals, he charged on the 
redskins. Some of the Indians were seized 
by the dogs and brought to the ground. The 
others were only too glad to escape by running 
into the woods. 

In the meanwhile the women and children 
had time to reach the stockade, and the great 
oak gate was shut. Isaac was left outside. 
The savages quickly rallied when they saw 
the plight of the young pioneer. 

“ I have at least saved the women and 
children,” muttered Isaac, when he heard the 
war cry of the Creeks. “ I suppose there is 

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no help for me; but I don’t mean to die 
without making one more charge on those 
redskins.” 

He blew a blast on his hunting-horn, to call 
his dogs around him. Digging his spurs into 
the flanks of his horse, he again charged the 
savages. He broke through them, but his 
good horse fell dead from an Indian’s bullet. 
He jumped from the saddle and ran with all 
his might toward the stockade. 

With wild cries the Creeks were after him. 
The rifle bullets whizzed by his head. Several 
buUets passed through his clothing without 
his receiving even a scratch. The redskins 
were now close at his heels, but the brave 
young fellow reached the great oak gate, 
which the settlers were holding a little way 
open for him. In another moment he was 
safe inside, and the gate was shut in the faces 
of the bloodthirsty savages. 


125 


XVIII 


THE DEFENSE OF FORT STEPHENSON 

G eneral harrison, the famous 

Indian fighter who became President 
of the United States, was in command 
of the army in the Northwest, Tecumseh, one 
of the greatest Indians that ever lived, was 
planning to drive all the settlers out of the 
Ohio region. He said that the white men had 
cheated the Indians out of their land, and he 
was eager for revenge. The Indians began 
war, but in the fall of 1811 they were defeated 
by General Harrison in the Battle of Tippe¬ 
canoe, in Indiana. 

When the War of 1812 began, Tecumseh 
took sides with the British. He thought his 
time for revenge had come. 

At this period there were three forts near 
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the shore of Lake Erie. Fort Meigs on the 
Maumee River was the most important of the 
three. 

In the summer of 1813, General Proctor 
with a force of British regulars and two or 
three thousand Indians crossed Lake Erie 
to capture Fort Meigs. 

After a short time he decided to withdraw. 
He put his regulars on board the gunboats, 
and ordered the Indians to follow him along 
the shore; for he now meant to attack another 
of the three forts, a little stockade known as 
Fort Stephenson. 

Fort Stephenson was an old stockade built 
round an Indian trader’s house on the San¬ 
dusky River, about twenty miles from Lake 
Erie. It is now the little city of Fremont. 
The fort, enclosing about an acre of ground, 
was built of oak logs set in the ground and 
sharpened at the top. At the corners of the 
fort were little blockhouses. Outside the fort 
was a ditch about eight feet deep and five or 
six feet wide. 


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Now this fort was an important post. Its 
loss would leave the way open for an attack 
on the storehouses up the river, in which were 
kept the supplies for aU the American forces 
in the Northwest. 

When General Harrison learned what the 
British planned to do, he sent a scout named 
William Connor to carry a letter to Major 
Croghan. 

“ Destroy the fort and the stores and re¬ 
treat if you can do so in season,” were the 
orders. 

The woods were full of Tecumseh’s painted 
warriors. More than once the scout was 
forced to seek the shelter of the bushes to 
escape the prowling savages. It is no wonder 
that he lost his way and was a long time in 
reaching the fort. 

“ I must see Major Croghan,” said Connor, 
when admitted to the stockade. 

I’m your man,” replied a young oflScer; 
“ what do you want? ” 

No, young fellow, you can’t fool me,” 
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objected the scout, looking at the smooth¬ 
faced young man. “You are nothing but a 
boy, and I want to see the commander. I 
have a letter for him from General Harri¬ 
son.’' 

“I’m Major Croghan,” insisted the young 
commander. “ I am twenty-one years old; 
old enough to command this fort and old 
enough to put you in irons if you don’t hand 
over that letter in two minutes.” 

“ This beats me,” muttered the old scout; 
and without another word he gave the letter 
to the young officer. 

“Wait here,” said Major Croghan; and 
he went out to talk with his officers, who were 
even younger than himself. 

In a few minutes he returned with a letter 
to General Harrison. It ran as follows: “ It 
is too late to retreat. We have made up our 
minds to defend this place, and by heaven we 
wiU.” 

This letter from so young a man was too 
much for an old soldier like General Harrison. 

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He at once called the young officer to head¬ 
quarters to explain matters. 

Now Major Croghan was a great favorite 
with the old Indian fighter. His family was 
famous in American history. He was the 
nephew of the celebrated George Rogers 
Clarke, who saved for us the three great 
states of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois. His 
father had fought through the Revolution. 
After graduating from college, at the age of 
eighteen, young Croghan went into the army 
and soon proved his courage. For bravery at 
the siege of Fort Meigs, he was made a major 
in the regular army, when he was only twenty 
years old. 

The young major told General Harrison it 
was not safe to retreat from Fort Stephenson 
with so large a force; for the woods were 
full of savages. He declared he had sent him 
the note with the hope that it would fall into 
the hands of the Indians. He also insisted he 
could hold the fort or make the British pay 
dearly for it. 


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Harrison agreed and hurried him back to 
his command. 

The garrison at Fort Stephenson worked all 
day and all night to get ready for the at¬ 
tack. 

About noon the next day, which was the 
first day of August, large numbers of Indians 
were seen skulking near. We are told that 
one redskin, bolder than the rest, climbed to 
the top of an elm tree which overlooked the 
stockade. He was shot dead by a Kentucky 
rifleman. Several others did the same thing 
and met with the same fate. 

About four o’clock in the afternoon. General 
Proctor, the British commander, sailed up the 
Sandusky River with his gunboats, landed 
about five hundred soldiers, and planted his 
cannon. At the same time the Indians 
showed themselves all about in the woods. 

General Proctor now sent Colonel Elliott to 
the fort. 

Lieutenant Shipp, the youngest officer in 
the stockade, went out to meet him. 

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'' I am sent to demand the surrender of your 
fort,” began the British officer. 

“ We shall defend it to the last moment.” 

“ Look at these four hundred veteran 
soldiers and seven hundred Indians. We are 
sure to take the place. The Indians will kill 
all of you. Tell your commander to surrender 
and save the shedding of blood.” 

“ When you take the fort there will be 
nobody left to kill; they will all be dead.” 

“ You’re a fine young man, too fine to be 
tomahawked and scalped by the savages,” 
continued the British officer; “ don’t be 
stubborn.” 

At this moment an Indian sprang out of the 
bushes and tried to snatch the lieutenant’s 
sword; but Shipp, not the least afraid, drew 
the weapon and made as if to kill the Indian. 

Colonel Elliott now begged the young officer 
to go back with all speed if he would save his 
life, since he could not control the Indians. 

All this time Major Croghan was watching 
the scene. He saw the insult to his messenger. 

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‘‘Come in, Shipp!” he shouted. “We’ll 
blow them all to pieces.” 

The battle now began in real earnest. The 
six cannon on the shore and the gunboats 
opened fire on the little stockade. 

In the fort were one hundred and sixty-two 
men and one cannon, an old six-pounder. 

“ Put Queen Bess on the blockhouse on 
the north side,” ordered Major Croghan. 
“ Hide her from the British. Load her to 
the muzzle and point her so that she will 
sweep the ditch.” 

That night and the next day until about 
four o’clock in the afternoon the British can¬ 
non and the regulars pounded away at the 
little fort. 

“ Keep cool, boys,” said Major Croghan, 
calmly. “ Shoot to kill. We must beat them 
or die.” 

The Indians did not like this kind of fight¬ 
ing. There was no chance to skulk behind 
trees. They had taken no scalps. If they 
showed themselves, the sure aim of the Ken- 

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THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


tucky riflemen brought them down. They 
grew restless. They wanted to get into the 
fort and begin the bloody work. 

A thunderstorm was rising, and by four 
o’clock it was almost as dark as night. 

General Proctor decided to storm the fort 
on the northwest corner and make an attack 
on the south side at the same time. Under 
cover of the smoke the regulars marched 
forward. 

‘‘ Cut down the pickets! Show the Yankees 
no quarter! ” shouted Colonel Short, leaping 
into the ditch. 

A deadly rifle fire flashed from every port¬ 
hole. The redcoats were checked and thrown 
into confusion. They quickly rallied. Again 
the men leaped to the front to cut down the 
oak logs. 

The colonel’s voice again rang out. 

“ Cut away the pickets, my boys! No 
quarter for the Yankees.” 

These were his last words. He fell headlong, 
pierced by a bullet. 


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All this time good Queen Bess, loaded to 
the muzzle with spikes and slugs, was hid 
from the sight of the enemy. The port now 
flew open. The old six-pounder spoke with 
terrible effect. Grapeshot and slugs raked the 
ditch and filled it with the struggling soldiers. 
More than a hundred men lay wounded or dead. 

The British did not rally. Without a 
leader, they turned and fled to the woods, 
followed by the deadly fire of the Kentucky 
sharpshooters. 

The two hundred regulars storming the 
fort on the south side were at the mercy of the 
riflemen. They were soon forced to seek 
shelter. 

The garrison had but one man killed and 
less than a dozen wounded. Of the British 
about one hundred and twenty men were 
killed or wounded. The savages had kept 
themselves out of the way, in a ravine near 
the fort. The whole attack was borne by the 
British regulars, who acted most bravely. 

After dark General Proctor stole on board 
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THE AMERICAN HISTORY STORY - BOOK 


his gunboat, leaving behind him his stores, 
guns, and clothing. The next morning the 
redcoats were far out on Lake Erie. Not an 
Indian was to be seen. 

The little band of fighters had saved the 
region from British conquest. Never again 
did a British soldier set foot in Ohio or Michi¬ 
gan except as a prisoner. 

Major Croghan lived for forty years after 
this gallant fight. He made good the promise 
of his youth. At twenty-seven he was pro¬ 
moted to be a colonel. After the war he filled 
many offices of trust and honor in the South. 
He was the youngest man, it is said, ever to 
receive the gold medal of honor awarded by 
Congress for heroic exploits. General Harri¬ 
son’s report contained the following: 

“ It will not be the least of General Proctor’s 
mortifications to find that he has been baffled 
by a young man who has just passed his 
twenty-first birthday. He is, however, the 
hero, worthy of his gallant uncle. General 
George Rogers Clarke.” 

136 









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